


The Tiger's Keeper

by easterlystars



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, M/M, Political Drama, Thriller, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-02-13 19:22:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2162172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/easterlystars/pseuds/easterlystars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bestowed with a special power, the street urchin Changmin embarks on an adventure he regrets taking. After being forced to swear his alliance to a group of resistance fighters, he is dispatched to the Imperial Palace to complete a simple delivery mission, but it doesn't go as planned. Now caught in a crossfire between two opposing forces, Changmin finds his loyalties divided.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to the Society

**Author's Note:**

> I really shouldn't be writing any fic now, but this idea has been bugging me _for months_ and I just need to let it out.
> 
> The setting of this fic might need some explaining. It's set in a [Victorian steampunk](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steampunk) kingdom, with a monarchy inspired by the [early years of Kangxi's reign](Four%20Regents%20of%20the%20Kangxi%20Emperor). The story has elements of [Chinese wuxia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wuxia); in this world, people have the ability to manipulate their ["Chi"](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qi) (氣), or "Ki" (기) in Korean. I refer to this phenomenon as "internal energy" throughout the fic. The story is also loosely based on the Jin Yong wuxia novel, ["The Deer and the Cauldron"](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Deer_and_the_Cauldron) (鹿鼎記).
> 
> This fic is rated Mature, so keep in mind coarse language, violence, and adult themes.
> 
> Like I said, I really have no business to write any fic, so I update very slow. Please bear with me.
> 
> Now, enjoy Changmin's (unfortunate) adventure, and thanks for reading :D
> 
> [edited: 2016-03-15]

**— The Era of Geonmyeong, Seventh Year (建明七年) —**

Changmin was slapped awake. A white-hot pain in his left arm infiltrated his senses. Before he could draw another breath, a thick hand grabbed his neck, lifted him into the air, and smashed him into a wall. 

“Who crashed it?” snarled a throaty voice.

Changmin choked in the man’s strong grip. The pain in his left arm was so bad the rest of his limbs were numbing.

“W-what are you t-talking about?” Changmin managed to croak out, his head spinning from the lack of air.

“The crash!” cried the man impatiently. He tightened his grip on Changmin’s throat. “What happened at the crash?”

Changmin’s eyes were shut tight from the aches all over his body. His head and lungs felt like they were about to split open.

It hurt to talk. He struggled to breathe. “I—I—”

The man yelled irritably and threw Changmin to the ground. A sharp whip cracked against his leg. Changmin released a harsh gasp of pain.

“THE CARRIAGE!” shouted the man. “How did it crash?”

Changmin felt the whip crack against him again. His breathing quickened, his core tightening.

“Stop it! You’re killing him!” cried a squeaky voice. “Look at him!”

“A beating would do this fucking guttersnipe some good!” 

The sound of another whiplash resonated in Changmin’s ears. He tried to open his eyes, to see what was going on around him, but the searing pain in his left arm forced his eyes to stay shut.

“No, no, stop! He’s our only witness!”

“Stop.”

The man paused to the commanding voice. Grumbling, he tossed his whip aside. 

Changmin let out a thin sigh of relief, his breathing evening out. A surge of energy suddenly consumed his core, spreading throughout his body. The pain in his arm began to subside, and he was starting to feel much stronger, and much more awake.

He wrenched open his eyes. He was lying on the cobble-stoned floor of a dimly-lit dungeon, surrounded by two large, burly men and a scrawny teenager with thick lips. The boy did not look much older than Changmin himself.

“The crash,” the man to Changmin’s left said curtly.

Changmin rubbed the sore spot on his leg at where the whip had struck him, his mind still at a daze. “What crash?”

The man with the whip dived at Changmin and lifted him off the floor with tremendous force. “Don’t fucking toy with me guttersnipe,” he spat on Changmin’s face. “I know your kind. You can’t play your dirty tricks on me.”

He squeezed Changmin’s neck tightly, shooting a burst of pressure into Changmin’s head.

Changmin’s head was spinning like a whirlpool, his lungs constricting. “Ch-choking!”

The man hardened his grip.

“Gene!” the other man cried in a tone of warning. 

“ARGH! Fine, fine!”

Changmin’s knees hit the cold stone floor, bruising him.

“Wh-what the hell!” Changmin managed as he coughed, frantically gasping for breath.

The other man slapped Changmin hard across the face. “Shut up. If you don’t want any more torture it’s best for you to just confess now and tell us what happened.”

“Dude, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Tell you what?” he cried, the burning pain in his left arm now creeping back to him. Changmin really had no idea what was going on. He didn’t even know how he ended up in a dungeon.

“Fucking guttersnipe!” Gene barked. He whipped Changmin again.

The boy uttered a strangled gasp.

“The carriage that crashed, at the coast,” said the other man nonchalantly as Gene continued to whip Changmin. “Oh, please don’t tell me you have amnesia. How convenient.”

Changmin could not respond. He covered his head and curled into a ball as Gene mercilessly whipped him, trying to block out the blistering pain that was now traveling back down his spine and throughout his body. It was hard to breathe. His skin felt like it was burning and his blood boiled…. The pain was searing more now.... His eyes were squeezed tight; his lungs felt smaller and smaller….

Memories of the crash suddenly returned to Changmin like the rush of a massive tidal wave; a steam carriage was running out of control; it burst into flames before it smashed straight into a stone gate, pieces of metal scrap flying everywhere…. Changmin’s muscles tensed as the agonizing scream of a woman ripped through his ears like an endless echo… a helpless, piercing scream…. Changmin ran over, feet clumsy.... He should save her…. A blast of fire forced Changmin to pull back…. 

Changmin’s eyes shot open.

“Wait—wait—stop! I remember now. The crash!” Changmin bellowed, his arms still hovering protectively over his head.

The whipping ceased. Changmin heard someone crouch down next to him. He tore open his eyes and came face to face with a man with bright green irises. 

“Well?” the green-eyed man asked.

Changmin’s eyes quickly surveyed the men in front of him as he struggled to push himself up to a sitting position, still panting from his vivid memory. The green-eyed man was probably in his mid-twenties, handsome, and clean-cut with a noble edge. He was plainly dressed in a black, tight-fitting vest with leather arm wear. The other man standing behind him—must be Gene—was dressed similarly but was shorter and more muscular, with arms that looked like they were trying to rip through his armor. The boy—standing stiffly next to Gene—looked more fashionably dressed, with a tailored burgundy suit and polished boots. He had bright gray eyes and flaming red hair that was slicked back orderly. This boy definitely came from a wealthy family. 

Feeling his heartbeat calming, Changmin tried to stand up but realized he was chained to the ground by his wrists and ankles. The gears in his head were spinning as he looked around the dungeon, trying to come up with a convenient plan of escape. There were no windows. Torches were lined up at all four corners of the cell, emitting a dim, orange light. There was a wooden round bucket sitting by the wall across from him. The exit to the dungeon—a sturdy, steel door—was to Changmin’s right.

He was trapped. He had to find another way out.

“What happened, guttersnipe?” repeated the taller man, his voice echoing in the silence.

Changmin’s eyes wandered back and forth from the green-eyed man to Gene, his mind racing. From their concerned looks Changmin knew that the crash he had witnessed was no accident. His eyes then fell on the boy, and Changmin smirked. He had a plan.

“Why are you guys so curious at what happened?” asked Changmin cheekily. “Are you guys prefects? What do I get if I tell you?”

The man raised his eyebrows curiously. His green eyes twinkled.

“You see, TOP?” cried Gene as he pointed at Changmin with his whip. “These fucking guttersnipes! You can’t go soft on them! They won’t know trouble until they feel it!”

Gene was about to give Changmin another whack in the face, but TOP raised his hand to stop him.

“Your freedom,” TOP responded calmly, his bright green eyes piercing at Changmin. “As you can see, guttersnipe, you’re chained and locked inside an underground dungeon. There is no way out. There is no escape. You tell us what you saw, and we will let you go. You don’t tell us, we will make you feel so much pain that you will be _begging_ for us to kill you. But we won’t. We will revive you each and every time so you can relive that wonderful agony again and again. Would you like that?”

Changmin huffed. “That doesn’t sound very pleasant.”

“Exactly. Now, let’s not make this harder on the both of us, shall we?”

Changmin sat in thought for a moment, then asked, “The carriage was carrying something important, wasn’t it?”

TOP chuckled. “Just tell us what happened and we’ll let you go.”

Changmin looked at TOP shrewdly as if considering his offer. 

“Nope, I don’t feel like telling now,” Changmin said smoothly, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall.

Gene growled. “You fucker—” 

TOP held Gene back before he could pounce on Changmin again. 

“Then you’ll just have to be good at dealing with pain,” said TOP coldly.

Changmin scoffed. “How counter-productive.”

TOP’s eyes narrowed. “What are you getting at, guttersnipe?”

“The name is Changmin, not _guttersnipe_ ,” snapped Changmin. “You’re not going to let me go. No matter how much pain you guys put me through, you’re still going to kill me in the end, right?”

TOP’s expression hardened.

“You really think I’m that stupid? What if I ended up telling a lie? Wouldn't it just be so much easier for all of us if we do an exchange? That way, not only would I know that you would keep your end of the deal, you would also be guaranteed my service.”

TOP let out a dry laugh. “We don't negotiate.”

Changmin grinned. 

“If I’m your only witness, you’re gonna have to. Ain’t I right, hyung?” said Changmin, giving the boy an appreciative smile.

TOP and Gene glared at the boy, whose cheeks were now burning as red as his hair.

“What do you want, guttersnipe?” TOP said finally.

Changmin frowned; he knew he should be using his knowledge of the situation to blackmail his way to freedom but he had not thought of how to do it yet.

“I think we should take him to Master,” said the boy quietly, interrupting Changmin’s train of thought. His breathing hitched. From the looks of their sleek attire, TOP and Gene were definitely not government prefects. They were more powerful than that.

Gene rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake kid, you can’t always run to your daddy when you encounter tricky situations.”

“No, Gene, he’s right,” TOP said as he turned to face the boy. “For the first time in your life, you’re actually talking sense.” 

The boy did not seem to appreciate TOP’s compliment and shot him a deadly look.

“For an incident as unexpected as this, I think Master would want to meet the guttersnipe anyways.”

Changmin was starting to get a little irritated at the disrespectful term. “My name is Changmin.”

“Whatever.”

TOP nodded to Gene and gestured the large man to unhook Changmin from his chains. He winced in pain as the boy pulled him up by his bad arm. 

“Ah—I think my arm is broken.”

Expressionless, the boy replied by gripping his arm tighter.

“Move,” said Gene, nudging Changmin’s back with the metal handle of his whip. 

He was pushed out of the dungeon and into a dark corridor, which led to a flight of cobble stairs. The stairway was dimly lit by iron torches, gentle flames flickering sinuously against the stone walls. Gene was walking in the lead, pulling Changmin by heavy, iron chains, while the boy and TOP trailed closely after him.

Changmin looked behind him. The boy gave him a loathing look, but TOP studied him with an amused expression. His green eyes illuminated in the dark, bright enough for Changmin to see a shadow of himself in his eyes.

“What’s so funny?” asked Changmin.

TOP smirked, but did not answer.

Gene pushed open a thick wooden door with ease and roughly pulled Changmin out of the stairway. Changmin turned his head away and squinted, bright sunlight immediately blinding him. Having stayed in the dark for so long, he almost forgot how to see in the day.

Slowly, he turned his head to the direction of the light, feeling the warm heat of the sun soaking into his skin. He sighed as he breathed in the fresh air, the scent of bark and grass filling into his channels. He wondered how long he had actually stayed in that filthy dungeon.

The boy hastily pushed Changmin to walk forward, breaking his moment of comfort. Changmin blinked rapidly, trying to adjust his eyes to the daylight.

His eyes widened.

“Oh my god,” he gasped.

They were standing inside a walled courtyard the size of a racecourse, paved with green grass, circular walkways, and tall trees. In the middle of the court was a large fountain, marble-white, decorated with statuettes of mythological creatures on the rim. Having lived in the slums for most of his life, Changmin had never seen something so clean and magnificent.

He jumped when a gust of wind swept past him. A man with a black mask sped by him quickly and jumped to a nearby tree, fighting with another masked man. Changmin looked up. Many of them, concealed in similar masks that covered their entire faces, were hovering from tree to tree, fighting with swords and staffs. Changmin watched a man skillfully thrust his sword back into its scabbard and released a blast of wind from his palm, knocking down his opponent.

A chill ran down Changmin’s spine. He remembered that move. The horrific image of a dark hooded man breaking into the abandoned monastery flashed clear in his mind.

“This is the Gods of the East Society,” whispered Changmin, his mouth agape as he watched the flying pugilist release another gust of wind.

Gene snickered. “Pissing your pants now, eh guttersnipe?”

Changmin’s heart tugged at the insult. “My pants are perfectly dry, thank you for your concern.”

Gene whipped around and looked ready to punch Changmin in the face. TOP pulled Changmin out of Gene’s reach in time and hung an arm around Changmin’s shoulders, bending down to whisper in his ear. 

“Our Master does not sit well with liars. He’s come across a bunch of your kind. He can read right through you.” With that, he squeezed Changmin’s shoulder and walked off ahead. Gene pulled at Changmin to walk faster, following TOP.

Panic lapped at Changmin as he followed his abductors, his wrists and ankles bruising from the chains. As if sensing his fear, the pugilists around him suddenly stopped fighting, turned around from their positions, and faced him. Though they were hidden behind expressionless masks, Changmin could feel them staring at him. Changmin’s chest tightened.

The Gods of the East Society was the Kingdom’s most powerful secret crime organization. Though its existence was known to the Jo monarchy, government prefects never managed to collect enough evidence to convict the organization for its illegal dealings. The Society was so good at staying in the shadows that some believed it dissolved after the fall of Ryu.

At least, that was what the old homeless man who Changmin used to sleep next to in the abandoned Buddhist monastery told him. But Changmin knew that wasn’t true. He had the unfortunate privilege to witness a few Society member sightings in the past. They always hid their identities behind delicate masks. The Knights of the East, as they were called, were reputable pugilists; powerful, skilled, and productive assassins. They were so secretive that they seemed legendary; so adept at killing that they were blood-thirsty.

Changmin cursed at his stupidity. What did he get himself into? If he didn’t try to act smooth and witty with TOP and Gene back at the dungeons and just confessed what he saw, he probably wouldn’t be walking to his death right now.

_I've seen their faces. They're going to kill me._

Changmin panicked at the thought of meeting the Master of the Society. He heard great and horrible things about the merciless leader of the Gods of the East Society, the conqueror of the Southern Isles. How he single-handedly defeated an entire army of seasoned pugilists. How he crushed the powerful underlords of the island and took over their leagues with just a mere stroke of his sword. Though the Society operated underground, its influence was spread far and wide throughout the Kingdom. But weren’t the headquarters of the Society located in the autonomous Southern Isles? Why was the Master in the Capital and so close to the Imperial Palace?

They halted in front of a handsome manor house at the end of the courtyard. TOP knocked three times on the oak front door.

The door swung open a few seconds later. A tall, greasy-looking man with a hooked nose looked down at them sternly.

“We’ve brought the witness,” said TOP.

“Yes, I can see that,” said the man in a sneering voice, eyeing Changmin critically. “Master is holding a meeting at the end of the corridor. Ah, Young Master.” The man’s eyes wandered to the red-haired boy and bowed.

The boy nodded in return.

Gene pushed Changmin into the house, his chains echoing heavily through the marble floor. The entrance hall was the complete opposite to the corroding underground dungeons. The hall was large and high, sumptuously decorated with plush red couches, expensive paintings, tall windows, and a burning fireplace. Changmin was pulled into a spacious corridor to his right. The walls were lit with bright, expensive lamps.

Changmin’s heart was starting to beat very fast. He was walking closer to his death.

“So the book is destroyed? She would not be that stupid!” Changmin heard a muffled voice say at the end of the corridor. 

“I will not hold that against her,” said another. “She’s ruthless. She knows what we’re looking for.” 

TOP pushed open the mahogany door.

It was a large meeting hall. The room was well-lit by the sunlight streaming into high ceiling windows that covered the red tapestried walls, adorned with industrial décor. At the center of the room was a long table, where over a dozen poshly-dressed men and women were sitting.

They immediately hushed when Changmin stepped into the room. The silence was only broken by the mechanic sounds of weird robotic devices that were hanging off the wide ceiling.

The buzzing was grating.

“A guttersnipe?” choked a man to Changmin’s right. His poor hygiene, mangled hair and lack of proper wear really made his homeless identity obvious.

“Master, we have brought the witness,” announced TOP as he walked to a tall man standing at the end of the long table. The man wore a prim black suit and a top hat that matched his expensive coat. He was probably in his late forties, with gray hair, gray eyes, and a stern face. He held up a long piece of parchment from the table and peered at it through his brass monocle. 

Changmin’s heart did a somersault. It must be him. The Big Boss of the underworld. The Leader of the Gods of the East Society. Changmin’s broken arm was aching again.

“Ah, yes, TOP. Perfect. I was just about to ask for the guttersnipe,” said the Master in a regal voice.

“Changmin. My name is Changmin, sir.”

Changmin heard someone choke into his mug. The Master lowered his monocle and looked at Changmin in surprise, taken aback.

TOP smirked. 

“I beg your pardon?” said the Master, his gray eyes now gleaming with amusement.

Changmin sank to his knees and bowed, his forehead touching the carpeted floor. “I am Changmin, Master Kim Jungmin.”

“You’ve heard of me?”

“Of course, sir,” said Changmin, feeling his knees shaking. Master Kim Jungmin’s voice was demanding and cold. “You’re one of the most powerful pugilists of the underworld. We all fear your great name.”

Kim Jungmin laughed, cold and sharp. “Ah, my name has traveled all the way to the Capital! That may not be a good thing.”

Changmin’s heart raced as Kim Jungmin’s footsteps drew closer and closer. The Master stopped right in front of him, and commanded, “Look at me.” 

He slowly looked up. Long pale fingers immediately wrapped around his chin, pulling him forward. He felt the Master’s body jolt lightly at the touch, and for a split second, Changmin saw a mix of fear and wonder flash across the Master’s sterling gray eyes.

“How old are you, boy?” he whispered.

“Fifteen, sir.”

“Fifteen! That’s old for a street urchin.”

“Well,” said Changmin, feeling stupidly brave. “I’m a special case.”

The Master grinned at Changmin's quip, eyeing him from head to toe. “Indeed you are.”

In a swift move, the Master returned to his end of the table and sat down. He picked up his cup of tea and casually sipped. “What do you want, boy?”

Changmin’s head snapped up, surprised as the Master’s direct question. “Want, sir?”

“Oh, you don’t want anything?” said the Master, feigning surprise. “Aren’t you guttersnipes all about give and take?”

Changmin looked down. Indeed. After years of surviving on his own, it was not his nature to give without a gift in return. TOP was right. The Master could read right through him, and Changmin had never felt so fearful for his life.

“I will play this game with you, guttersnipe. I’m sure you know why you are here. You tell me what I need to know and I will give you what you want. I am a man of my word. Are you?”

Changmin gulped. “O-of course, sir. I never break my promises.”

“And neither do I. Tell me about what you witnessed, boy.”

Changmin looked around. All eyes were now on him.

“The crash…” Changmin started, taking in a deep breath. “It was no accident. It was an attack.”

Everyone around the room exchanged astonished looks.

Changmin took that as a sign to continue. “I heard an explosion so I went to see what happened. I saw the carriage in flames. I—I can distinctively remember there was a woman inside and she was screaming. I tried to go and save her but I couldn’t keep up with the carriage. It kept on going and going until it crashed straight into a wall. After it exploded a second time, I blacked out.”

The room was eerily quiet when Changmin finished his story. The Master was playing with the jade ring on his finger, deep in thought.

“You said you heard a woman scream inside the carriage,” said TOP finally, breaking the silence. “You heard and saw no one else?” 

Changmin shook his head. “Only the woman. There was no driver.”

“You sure?” asked a stubby man sitting beside Changmin.

Changmin nodded. “I’m positive.”

TOP and the Master exchanged glances.

“How can a carriage drive itself? You’re obviously lying!” exclaimed the boy.

“Junsu,” ordered the Master. The boy glared at the Master and took a few steps back, crossing his arms.

“Lying?” Changmin clutched his broken arm, breathing heavily. The searing pain returned again. “Why would I lie about this? Look, I’m powerless. You guys can kill me with the stroke of a pinky. Even if I lied, you would be able to read right through me, right sir?”

He stared straight at the Master with determination. The Master’s gray eyes narrowed, considering Changmin’s words carefully.

“I trust the boy,” he announced after a long moment. “He has no reason to lie. Besides, his account agrees with what we discussed earlier.”

There was a murmur of agreement around the room. 

“It was a diversion—”

“Definitely a decoy…”

The room broke into loud discussions. Changmin felt his breath go more uneven. His battered, oversized shirt stuck to his back, and he realized only now that he had been sweating profusely. The pain in his arm was growing heavier. He looked up at the Master, who was still eyeing Changmin with wry. 

“You promised you’ll give me what I want,” said Changmin. The room quieted down.

The Master nodded. “Yes, I did.” He put his large mechanical monocle back on his right eye and stood up. It clicked back into place as if it had a mind of its own. “Thank you for keeping your promise, Changmin. You are not like the others.” He walked to Changmin and helped him stand up. “What do you want, boy?”

“I know what you guys are,” said Changmin bravely. “I’ve seen all of your faces. Your identities are exposed. You’ll probably finish me off.”

Gene, who was standing next to TOP, caressed his whip and gave Changmin a greasy grin.

“But you said you will give me what I want,” Changmin continued, voice harder, guard up. “I want my freedom.”

“I can’t give you that.”

Changmin’s heart gave an unpleasant jolt.

“Let me do the honors,” cried Gene happily, advancing to Changmin.

“Stop, Gene,” commanded the Master. “Who said I want him finished?”

“Jungmin-ah,” said an elderly, wise-looking man sitting at the far end of the table. “Our identities are exposed to this guttersnipe and we cannot afford to release him back to the wild.”

“I will not release him,” said the Master in a soft voice.

“Then what? You want him to join the Society?” cried an angry voice. “Is he even qualified?”

Junsu strode over to the Master. “Father, you can’t just recruit a random guttersnipe into—”

The Master waved a hand, gesturing Junsu to stop speaking. His gray eye explored Changmin for a moment, his mechanical monocle wheezing. “This guttersnipe is not like the others.” He then said, “I cannot give you freedom, Changmin, but I can give you shelter.”

Did Changmin hear correctly? Shelter? The possibility of him not having to steal leftover food and sleep in abandoned temples; of having a real home…. 

“What?” he asked, his throat gone dry.

“Not only will I offer you my shelter and my protection, I will also have you join this Society and become my pupil,” said the Master, and Changmin’s stomach lifted. “I will personally train you to become the Society’s next best pugilist.”

Sounds of protest filled the room.

“Father!”

“Master! Are you sure about this? You don’t even know this boy!”

“I don't understand—”

Changmin stared at the Master, his jaw agape. “Wait, that’s not what I—I’m not—are you serious?”

“Like I said, I am a man of my word, Changmin.”

“I—”

“Your arm looks bad,” interrupted the Master. “Kyuhyun!”

A lanky boy with jet black hair stumbled excitedly into the room from the hallway.

“Please fix that up for him. Oh, and provide him a bath and some fresh clothes. We have a new member to our family.” 

Kyuhyun bowed respectfully. “Yes, Master.”

The Master nodded at Changmin, smiling. “Welcome to the Society.”

 

* * *

 

“Watch this.”

Kyuhyun rested Changmin’s broken arm on top of a small purple cushion. He closed his eyes and did a clawing motion over his chest. A small ball of light slowly moved up from his core and to his hand. Changmin stared in awe as the small orb of energy absorbed into Kyuhyun's hand, illuminating it like a lamp.

“This is internal energy.”

Kyuhyun waved his glowing hand over Changmin’s arm and the light immediately enveloped his broken limb. Changmin gave a small yelp of pain. The bones in his arm felt like they were rearranging themselves. 

Then, a small force pushed Kyuhyun’s hand back. The light on Changmin’s arm extinguished.

“Woah,” gasped Kyuhyun, startled.

“What happened?” croaked Changmin, eyes shut tight. His arm felt as if it was full of splinters.

Kyuhyun furrowed his eyebrows and bit his lip. “Hold on.”

He lit up Changmin’s arm again. Changmin looked away, trying to ignore the piercing sensation that was traveling up and down his arm. The glow faded a few seconds later, and the searing pain also immediately gone. 

Kyuhyun wrapped Changmin’s arm in a cast and secured it with bandage cloth. “I just used my internal energy to push your bones back into place so they can mend faster. Give it a few days and your arm will be back to normal,” grinned Kyuhyun, looking at Changmin’s bandaged arm proudly.

Changmin moved his fingers with fascination. There was still an aching sore, but it didn’t bother him as much as before. “How did you know that you didn’t push my bones out of place? It’s not like can see them.”

“I don’t need to see. Once you know how to use your internal energy, you’d be able to feel every proper nook and bend in your body. Don’t worry, I’ve had enough practice.”

Changmin raised his eyebrows. “Sounds risky.”

Kyuhyun sat in thought for a moment. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it? Well, I’ve been trained to be a healer my whole life. This is pretty much the only talent I have. Trust me, your arm will be fine.”

Changmin nodded, still fascinated with Kyuhyun’s ability. “It’s a very useful talent.”

“Thanks.” Kyuhyun stuck out his hand, smiling. “Cho Kyuhyun. Welcome to the Society.”

Changmin took it with his good hand. “Shim Changmin.”

“You must have a lot of talent in you, Shim Changmin.”

Changmin raised his eyebrows. “Elaborate?”

“I’ve never seen Master take in an apprentice like that before. We all have to work our way to get here. He must have seen something really special in you.”

Changmin shrugged. “There’s nothing special about me. I don’t know how to use my internal energy like you and I don’t know anything about martial arts. If I had any of that talent I wouldn’t need to fight off thugs three times my size just for a scrap of newspaper to sleep on every night.”

“I don’t know man, but when I was just using my energy to fix your bones, something was pushing me back. I think it was your own energy. I’ve never felt that before.”

It was as if Kyuhyun had just lit up a lamp in his brain. “My own energy. What do you mean?”

“I think we can expect great things from you, Changmin.” 

Changmin propelled to his feet. “That explains it.”

“Explains what?” asked Kyuhyun, also standing.

“It explains why I—” Changmin stopped midway and looked at Kyuhyun darkly. “Wait, if I told you, are you going to go off and tell everyone?”

“Probably.”

“Never mind, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback, whether good or bad, will mean a lot to me. I haven't written fic in many years, so my writing is rather rusty. In fact, I've never really written a fic of this scope, so please don't hesitate to point out my mistakes! Thanks for the support!
> 
>  **Additional notes:**  
>  \- The Gods of the East Society is inspired by the [Tiandihui](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tiandihui), a Chinese secret organization active during the Qing Dynasty.  
> 


	2. The Mission

Changmin expected to get inked or pierced or stabbed or just about anything violent done to him when he was told that all Society members had to go through an initiation process, but Changmin stayed physically intact, much to his relief. In fact, he didn't have to do much at all; all he had to do was swear his loyalty before an incense alter, let out a few drops of blood from his middle finger into a bowl of water, drink it, and then take an oath. For an organization that held the reputation for being as vicious as they were disciplined, the initiation ritual seemed... trivial. And almost too humane.

After that was done, Jongin, a scrawny boy who looked perpetually stoned, gave Changmin a quiet (but surprisingly pleasant) tour around the grounds. The Gods of the East Manor was a lot larger than Changmin had originally pictured, and he couldn’t help but to be impressed... _very_ impressed, considering how close they were to the Imperial Palace. It was almost as if the Society didn’t even consider the Capital as a threat.

The Society’s estate was heavily guarded by stone walls in a perimeter that stretched at least a mile in each direction. Redwood trees lined a wide concrete sidewalk that led to the entrance of the Main House, a handsome mansion that stood four stories tall. Behind the House were smaller town houses—dormitories for the members—arranged neatly in strategic squares. To the left was an amphitheater, for training, and to the right was a large airship factory. Behind the factory was the skyline of the Capital.

“Airship business? Seriously?” Changmin asked Jongin as they walked up a flight of steel steps. They stopped by a raised platform on the second floor, where it overlooked the engine construction below. The roaring sounds of the airship's steam engines were so loud that Changmin had to shout.

“Disguise,” replied Jongin simply.

Changmin looked at Jongin, expecting him to elaborate some more, but he didn’t. He leaned against the railing and crossed his arms. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

Jongin turned red. He looked at Changmin, eyes wide, and nodded.

Well, that didn’t answer anything.

“Okay,” said Changmin, moving on with the tour.

According to Kyuhyun, The Gods of the East Society operated as an up-and-coming airship factory business under the name ‘Woogan & Co’, which was used as a cover for their underground activity. Assuming that the airships were all just for immaculate display, Changmin was shocked to find out that all of the ships were actually operational, engineered by the Society's own members. How clever. Legal and illegal all in one.

Under the airship factory were underground cellars, equipped with various machinery and armor that Changmin was told would be useful to him in the future. Flags sewn with the crest of a horse’s head hung conspicuously on the walls at the end of each cellar corridor.

And it was then when Changmin realized what he was getting himself into.

The Gods of the East Society was more than just an organized crime society that smuggled weapons and carried out assassinations throughout the Kingdom.

It was an army of Ryu loyalists.

 

* * *

 

The Kingdom of Ryu fell to the hands of the Kingdom of Jo nearly one hundred years ago. It was a hostile takeover. The patriotic Ryus refused to accept a foreigner to be their ruler, and rebellions broke out. Disobedience was everywhere. But King Geonmyeong of Jo and the Great Majesty before him encouraged the integration of Ryu and Jo cultures, advocating for peace and harmony between the two nations. Anti-Jo sentiment eventually subsided when more and more Ryu scholar-bureaucrats began to serve in higher positions of office, becoming equals with the Jos. King Geonmyeong himself also accepted a Ryu as a concubine, and the two societies reached a balance.

But after the sudden death of King Geonmyeong, the Kingdom was thrown into chaos once again, and the Jo monarchy was left standing with a very young heir, unfit to rule. To stabilize the Kingdom, the Royal Court activated the Regency Act, establishing four Lord Regents to temporarily oversee the Kingdom until the young King came of age. This caused a brief scare across the Capital, as many feared that the new Lord Regents would not be as forgiving as their predecessor lawmakers. Many Jos also used this opportunity of weakened rule to wreck havoc once again, showing their supremacy and ethnic superiority over the Ryus. Relations between the Jos and the Ryus deteriorated like never before.

It was of no surprise that a secret organization like the Gods of the East Society had always been lurking around, hiding in the dark to wait for the right time to strike down the Jo regime.

But Changmin stood at the middle. He did not care about politics. He did not care about power. He was not a Jo, but he didn’t like to identify himself as a Ryu loyalist either. What he wanted more than anything else in the world was to be a free man; free from attachments and free from obligations. However, Changmin knew, deep down, that nothing could ever be free. The years of indentured servitude he had to endure in the past showed him that nothing would ever be given without strings attached.

And when the Master promised his life, Changmin knew then and there that it would be a life sentence.

 

* * *

 

Much like the old life, Changmin had to do chores. Wonted, rhythmic, painful chores. Every morning before sunrise, Changmin had to catch the morning twilight to practice his internal energy with other trainee members of the Society. Training was on top of small floating airships that were at least two miles above sea level. According to Co-Master Lee Jaehyuk, it was the best place to find their “inner chi”—whatever that meant. 

Changmin would fall asleep every morning.

After breakfast, the trainees would undergo martial arts training for at least five hours in the amphitheater, learning the basics of strength training, sword fighting, fist fighting, leg combat, and firearms practice. Sometimes, the trainees would be told to challenge each other in duels. The co-masters said duels were a way to test a member's progress, but Kyuhyun told Changmin that the true purpose of dueling was so the Master could find the most suitable member to embark on various “missions.” Changmin was never told what these missions were, but when he passed by the Master’s chambers one night, he overheard the Master and TOP talking about “that Jo royal.”

Though many of the members trained together, Changmin realized that each of them had their own specialized skills. 

Such as Kyuhyun. He was a healer. He practiced with the rest but he would focus most of his time reading medical books and work in the medical room.

Kibum, one of Kyuhyun’s good friends, was exceptionally good with his fists. The members called him the Iron Fist. His hand-to-hand combat was agile and powerful. He was so strong he could a punch a hole through a tree.

Yoochun, one of the senior members, specialized in fighting with small weapons such as darts and knives. He was also very skilled at using his internal energy and was one of the fastest members in the Society.

Then there was Junsu, the only son of Master Kim Jungmin. Junsu was the Society’s best swordsman. One would never try to get on Junsu’s bad side but Changmin already knew he got on that wrong end when they first met at the dungeons. Whatever. Junsu was a little too thick in the head for him anyway. Changmin tried to avoid Junsu at all costs.

Changmin, however, had no skills.

Being the only new addition to the Society and a complete noob when it came to martial arts, Changmin had to learn every single thing from scratch.

And he quickly learned that he had absolutely no talent in this department.

Which was actually a good thing to know, because that meant Changmin would never be selected to do missions.

Tangled in swords, bruised from combat and burned out from stress, Changmin was very glad that he had Kyuhyun, the healer, as his roommate and confidant.

Changmin and Kyuhyun became close friends almost as soon as they met. He was a friend Changmin never thought he could ever have. On the night he joined the Society, Kyuhyun warmly welcomed him into his tiny but cozy room, and offered him the top bunk of his bed. 

“You can share this bunk with me,” said Kyuhyun sleepily, rubbing his eyes. “It’s good to finally have a roommate. It gets so lonely here.”

Changmin never had to share anything in his life before. It was either take it, leave it, or beg for it. It was a nice feeling, being tucked in warm covers and hearing the soothing sounds of his roommate breathing softly underneath him. Changmin never slept so well in his life.

 

* * *

 

“Once you learn how to control your internal energy, the faster you will grasp the fight techniques I’ve shown you,” explained the Master patiently one evening.

The Master and Changmin were sitting face to face on the grass at the east side of the courtyard, alone, sitting next to a small garden stream, surrounded by tall trees that cast dark shadows in the moonlight. 

“Energy flows in all of us,” said the Master softly. He raised his hand and conjured a small ball of light. “It surrounds us, binds us, and connects us to our universe.”

Sitting cross-legged, Changmin let out a strained sigh and closed his eyes. He had been training all day and was exhausted beyond belief. He had no patience for this meditating crap.

The Master felt Changmin’s tension. “Concentrate.”

“It’s hard,” he groaned.

“Mastering the internal energy requires patience,” replied the Master calmly. “Think like the water. Feel the air around you. Feel its movements. Clear your pathways. Move all that energy to your core.”

With his eyes still shut tight, Changmin tried to relax his body. He eventually felt his heart beat slowing down, and his breathing calmer. His core began to heat up. When he opened his eyes, he saw his skin glow, as if fireflies were lighting up his body.

The Master smiled, his sharp gray eyes fixed on Changmin’s face. “Perfect.”

Seconds later, the light on Changmin’s skin extinguished.

“It’s gone!” gasped Changmin.

“That’s because you still haven’t mastered your energy. You need more training.”

Pushing his core, Changmin willed his energy to return to the surface of his skin again, but he could not get it to light up longer than two seconds. He sighed in frustration when the light distinguished again, feeling worn out. 

“Astonishing,” said a deep voice behind him.

Changmin turned to his back and saw TOP walking toward them, in his usual black vest and leathers. TOP bowed respectfully. “Master,” he greeted.

“Ah, TOP,” said the Master smoothly. “You have news for me?”

“I do, Master.” TOP’s green eyes lingered at Changmin’s direction. “We may have a location.”

Changmin had no idea what he was talking about, but the Master knew. His smile stiffened.

The Master stood up swiftly and slipped on his navy swallowtail coat, back to his businessmen guise. He flipped open his pocket watch, looked at it, and said, “Changmin, I want you to stay here and train your energy for another hour.”

“Master, I’m tired.”

The Master’s glare was piercing and cold. A chill went down Changmin’s spine.

“Yes, Master,” he said in a quiet voice, looking down.

When the Master walked away, TOP approached Changmin and knelt in front of him. “Of all my years as a pugilist I have never seen a rookie able to learn how to use their energy so quickly,” he remarked.

TOP was unusually nice to Changmin tonight.

“You’re praising me?” asked Changmin in disbelief.

TOP’s expression was stoic. “This is your power, Changmin. Use it wisely.”

And with that he stood up and walked away.

Changmin thought about it long and hard. _My power._ He recalled that jolt of energy he felt when Master Kim Jungmin touched him for the first time. He remembered how his own energy had pushed Kyuhyun away when the healer tried to fix his arm. Changmin was pretty sure they were connected somehow.

TOP’s footsteps reverberated through the ground. Changmin closed his eyes and concentrated on pushing his energy flow to his core. _Think like water. Feel the air._

His breathing steadied. He tuned his skin to the air around him. He felt his body heating up and a tingling sensation from his core traveled to the tips of his limbs.

What came next sent Changmin’s heart up his throat.

The air stilled but he was shaking. Changmin suddenly felt the vibrations of of every single presence around him, every location of an object, every breath of life. Their existence was like an infinite amount of blades, jamming into his brain. 

Changmin’s eyes shoot opened. Everything around him lit up to a dim yellow glow. He heard whispers in his head. He could feel the direction of the Master and TOP’s footsteps, walking further away from him.

Changmin could see and hear every little detail.

“Woah,” he breathed.

 

* * *

 

**— The Era of Shinmu, First Year (神武元年) —**

Changmin’s interest was desiccating.

Every night, he was required to meet with the Master at the east side of the courtyard for some additional internal energy lessons. These sessions were, Changmin admitted, pretty interesting at first. He was taught how to use his own energy as a kinetic force, giving him the telekinetic ability to create wind. He also learned how to manipulate the surrounding air to make him fly, a skill that he was happy to achieve.

But strengthening one’s internal energy required a lot more than just blowing down bigger trees each time, and Changmin, having only the attention span of a gnat, was already giving up when the Master started to go into painful detail about the meridian system of the human body. Changmin didn’t understand the point of having to memorize a clusterfuck of pressure points when he could just easily knock someone out by blowing him off his feet.

It really was a waste of time.

“I don’t know, Master.”

They were in the topmost floor of the airship factory. It was a snowy winter night. Moonlight shined through the window walls that surrounded the circular room, overpowering the bright flames from the chandelier. Changmin was sitting in the center of the room, his bad arm injured and bandaged up again from this morning’s sword fighting practice. Master was sitting across the writing desk, pointing at a map of the human model that was placed in front of Changmin. Junsu was standing behind the Master, his red hair matching the color of the lamplight.

The Master sighed.

“Changmin, you’ve been training for three months. Yes, your grasp of your internal energy has improved immensely, and I’m very proud of you. But this. This is important. With this knowledge, you can reach your full potential.”

Changmin had no interest in reaching his full potential. He honestly didn’t give a shit, but he wasn’t going to tell the Master that.

Junsu broke out into muffled laughter. Changmin glared, his own ears reddening.

“What is this,” asked the Master again, clearly ignoring Junsu who was making choking sounds behind his back.

The Master pointed at an ink dot that was marked on the right side of the human model, under the right ear.

“Ergh… the neck?”

“What part of the neck?”

“Uh…”

Changmin had no idea. He sank into his chair, embarrassed.

The Master’s expression was unreadable.

“The reception point,” he said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “You strike it, and your opponent loses consciousness.”

Changmin nodded solemnly. “Yes, Master.”

Junsu gave a harsh bark of laughter. He immediately stopped choking in his own spit after catching the Master’s cold stare.

“I’m sorry, Master,” said Changmin. “I’m trying.”

“You’re not trying enough.”

Changmin nodded slowly in response, unable to think of anything to say to that. Well, it was true. He wasn’t really trying, but maybe he should at least attempt it so he could wipe that smug look off of Junsu’s face.

The Master sighed again.

“That’s it for tonight,” he said, standing up from his upholstered chair. “Get some rest, Changmin.”

Changmin stood up and bowed his head as the Master and Junsu left the room.

He fell back onto his chair and eyed the scroll in front of him with great dislike. A gazillion different-colored lines representing separate meridian pathways were criss-crossing all over the map, which was an outline of the human male. It was an explosion of messy colors. Changmin wasn’t allowed to be schooled at his old place, but in many ways he was glad he didn’t, because if this was what he had to do every single day, he would rather not go.

“Fuck this shit,” growled Changmin, resorting to drawing angry doodles on the map with his quill.

The last five months with the Society had been a bitch. Changmin hated waking up every morning at four just so he could catch the twilight air to practice his energy. He despised drilling the same combat moves over and over again, doing the same sword fighting moves over and over again for hours at a time. He wasn’t getting any better at it. And now, he was expected to be a good, patient student and study meridian maps with the Master every single night.

This was not what Changmin had signed up for.

After enduring years of pseudo-slavery and subservience from his old Masters, Changmin finally fought his way out and became a free man. Life in the streets was not easy, but at least Changmin knew he was free; free from abuse, free from manipulation, and free from power. Living alone, he got to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and no one was around to beat the senses out of him.

But now, he’s dragged back into doing the same old routine, going back to the same life that he had worked so hard to escape from.

He did not care about the revolution. He did not care about being a powerful pugilist. All he wanted was to live a free life.

Was he not worthy for even that?

Changmin dropped his quill and, casually, levitated it off the table using his internal energy.

Internal energy. It was really the only thing he excelled at. It didn’t take a genius for Changmin to realize that he was actually the only member among the Society who had this... unique ability. He was the only member in the Society who had these special private lessons with the Master. Changmin never knew how it felt like to be special, to feel needed, and he definitely never saw himself as important. But he was all of that now, and although it felt foreign, Changmin quite liked the attention. 

But it also made Changmin feel uneasy.

Because he knew this was the reason why the Master insisted to keep him in the Society.

His power.

 

* * *

 

It was bugging Changmin all week.

“Guess what? Yoochun just got sent off for a mission,” said Kyuhyun happily as he stepped into their shared dormitory. “The revolution is near.”

“That’s nice,” said Changmin mindlessly. He was only half paying attention.

He had to tell someone.

“Hey Kyu, can you keep a secret?”

Kyuhyun brushed the snow off his winter coat and hung it on a hook beside the door.

“Depends on the secret.”

“How about a... big secret, I think.” 

Kyuhyun looked at Changmin carefully. “Did something happen?”

“Not really. It’s just—” Changmin ruffled his scraggly hair and plopped on Kyuhyun’s bed. “Remember the time when you were mending my arm and you said my energy was pushing you away?”

“Yes,” said Kyuhyun as he sat on a chair across the room, unbuckling his medical utility belt from his waist. “Your internal energy is very strong, and that showed in your training. You’re almost as good as Yoochun now.”

“Well yes, but I discovered recently—actually it’s not recently—but I have discovered that I can do things with my internal energy.”

“Changmin, we can all do things with our internal energy.”

“I know but it’s not just any _thing_ , it’s _weird_ things.”

Kyuhyun furrowed his eyebrows. “Whaddya mean?”

“It’s like—weird things that regular people can’t do.”

Kyuhyun raised his eyebrows in confusion. “I don’t get it.”

“Okay, I can’t explain it. I just have to show you.”

Changmin walked over to Kyuhyun.

“Look at me,” said Changmin sternly, pointing at his own eyes. “Don’t blink.”

Kyuhyun nodded. “Okay.”

Changmin took a deep breath. He squeezed his eyes shut and mustered as much energy as he could from his core. He felt the air around him stilled.

He opened his eyes to Kyuhyun’s shocked expression.

“Fuck! Where did you go?” shouted Kyuhyun, jumping up to his feet. His eyes wandered all over their messy dormitory but missed Changmin, who was standing just in front of him.

“I’m right in front of you.”

“But I can’t fucking see you!”

Changmin relaxed his core and materialized in front of Kyuhyun.

Kyuhyun fell back into his chair. 

“You just disappeared right in front of my eyes,” said Kyuhyun as he pointed at Changmin, shaken.

“Yep,” wheezed Changmin, now panting like he had run a mile.

“How the fuck did you do that?”

“With my internal energy.”

Kyuhyun looked like he was about to die from a heart attack. “Oh my god,” he said, clutching his chest.

“I know,” said Changmin, nodding. “And not only can I disappear, I can also—here, watch this.”

Changmin faced the palm of his hand at Kyuhyun’s utility belt, which was lying on the side-table next to him. Changmin willed his energy to move through his arm and to the belt. 

The belt began to float.

“Fuck,” cursed Kyuhyun. “Holy fuck.”

Changmin lost control of the belt and released it.

Kyuhyun’s jaw dropped, his eyes popping out of his face.

“Do it again!”

Changmin tried it again but failed.

“I can’t do it again,” sighed Changmin, shaking his head. “It takes up too much of my energy. I’m drained.”

He threw himself back on Kyuhyun’s bed. His bones ached.

Kyuhyun slowly walked up to Changmin and sat next to him on the bed, looking deep in thought. “You can control your energy to make yourself disappear. That’s… that’s powerful. If you continued training it, who knows what you can do.”

“I don’t wanna know,” mumbled Changmin, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Does Master know about this?”

Changmin swallowed. “I think he has some idea.”

“That explains why Master insists to have evening lessons with you.”

“Don’t tell anyone about this, Kyuhyun!” Changmin whispered fiercely. “I don’t want to look like a freak.”

“A weapon,” said Kyuhyun, looking grim. “If people knew about this, you’re going to be treated as a weapon.”

 

* * *

 

The secret wasn’t kept for long.

“Shim Changmin,” said Junsu coolly a few days later, pointing his sword straight at Changmin. “I challenge you to a duel.”

Every head in the amphitheater turned to look at Changmin.

Changmin stood still, frozen on the spot.

Maybe he didn’t hear correctly.

“What?”

Junsu narrowed his cold gray eyes, smirking unpleasantly. “Duel, guttersnipe. Now.”

It was a known fact among the Society's members that Junsu was one of the best swordsmen of the pugilist underworld. Changmin himself could barely hold a sword properly.

Junsu would _crush_ Changmin.

Kibum treaded over to Changmin’s side. “Changmin’s not up to our skill level yet. How about I duel with you, sunbae-nim?”

Junsu flicked his sword, gesturing Kibum to step aside. “Shim.”

Kyuhyun grasped Changmin’s arm defensively.

“I’ll be fine,” said Changmin quietly, nodding to Kyuhyun and Kibum. Shivering, he awkwardly pulled out his sword from its scabbard and stepped into the midfield, his feet shuffling across the dirty snow. He let out a deep shaky breath, and a thick cloud of smoky condensation escaped his mouth.

Everyone in the training arena were now staring at them, but Changmin tried to keep his eyes trained only on Junsu. A chill breeze swept over the training field, and light snow began to fall, powdering Junsu's flaming red hair.

“Ready when you’re ready!” Changmin shouted, holding his sword over his head.

“Watch your feet,” said Junsu tightly, his expression unfaltering.

Junsu was very fast.

In a blink of an eye he launched himself at Changmin, sword pointing straight ahead. Changmin managed to duck just in time before Junsu could slice his face in half.

Changmin rolled to one side as Junsu’s sword slashed the ground. 

Junsu twirled briskly around and lunged at Changmin again, his sword over his head. Changmin deflected his hit but Junsu kept attacking, his arms moving as fast as the wind. His arm work was crisp and smooth. Changmin frantically tried to block his attacks but Junsu was so fast he couldn’t keep up. The hold on his sword was slipping.

Changmin was pushed back with tremendous force. He jumped, thinking about leaping over Junsu and attack him from behind, but Junsu grabbed his feet in time. He pulled Changmin down and smashed him to the ground.

Junsu swung his sword at Changmin, his expression intense. Changmin countered it with difficulty.

Changmin thrusted his sword forward but Junsu easily avoided it, sliding to a different direction. He kicked Changmin’s sword out of his hand and elbowed him to the ground.

Struggling, Changmin rolled out of Junsu’s direction of attack. He attempted to jump over Junsu again but Junsu reacted quickly, swiping Changmin off his feet.

The Master’s son lunged forward, his sword pointing straight at Changmin’s chest. Changmin fell to the ground when Junsu landed on top of him, the tip of his basket-hilted sword inches away from Changmin’s chin. Changmin grabbed the hilt of Junsu's sword and tried to push it off. The muscles on his arms were ripping from the force.

“A guttersnipe will always be a guttersnipe,” Junsu growled through his teeth, pressing harder, his face inches away from Changmin’s. “You think you can defeat me? You will always, _always_ be beneath me, Shim Changmin!”

Changmin’s blood boiled, his grip on Junsu’s sword tightened. Anger poured out of him as he clenched his teeth. His core was growing hot.

“Don’t do it, Changmin!” shouted Kyuhyun.

Too late.

“ARGH!” Changmin bellowed. He willed his energy to flow throughout his entire body. The air around him stilled. 

Junsu dropped his sword, shocked.

Everyone gasped. Kyuhyun groaned and covered his face.

“Where did he go?” Junho exclaimed.

“What the fuck?” cried Chansung.

Junsu looked frantically around, his mouth hanging open. “H—how?”

Changmin wanted to stay invisible longer but he lost his grip on his energy and materialized in front of Junsu.

Junsu stared at him with a wild expression.

“Junsu! Changmin!”

The Master was watching their duel from the sidelines. He looked at them, his expression hard. “Come with me. Both of you.”

They were taken to the meeting room at the end of the corridor inside the Main House, in the same room where Changmin first met the Master.

Changmin’s stomach did a somersault. He knew his secret wouldn’t be kept for long but he wasn’t quite ready to show the world this unique talent of his yet. It was all Junsu’s fault. He ticked him off, causing Changmin to lose control of his core.

The buzzing from the gadgets in the room was deafening. 

“Close the door, Changmin.”

Changmin did as he was told. When the door clicked shut, the Master immediately swung around and towered over Changmin.

“Did you see that, Father?” cried Junsu before the Master could speak. “Did you see what he did?”

“I saw it as clear as day, Junsu,” the Master said calmly, eyes still on Changmin.

“It’s dark magic! I’ve never seen anything like that in my life! I told you he shouldn’t be trusted!”

“Calm down, Junsu.”

“It’s not magic!” Changmin blurted quickly. “My own energy did that.”

The Master tilted his head curiously.

“How… long have you been able to do this, Changmin?”

“At first I didn’t even know I could do it,” said Changmin, shrugging. “It wasn’t until a few weeks ago when I realized that I have actually been doing this for a very long time. That probably explains why I was able to survive for so long on my own in the streets.”

There was a stunned silence.

Seconds later the Master broke into laughter. Insane, maniacal laughter.

Changmin and Junsu exchanged puzzled looks.

“This is perfect!” exclaimed the Master, squeezing Changmin’s arms. 

“What’s perfect, Father?” asked Junsu, taking a few steps forward.

The Master walked briskly to his desk at the end of the meeting room.

“Changmin, I will be leaving for the Southern Isles tomorrow morning. I have some business to attend to over there. While I am gone, Junsu will be holding the fort for me here at the Capital.”

“Okay?” said Changmin, confused.

The Master pulled out an envelope from his desk drawer. “I have a mission for you.”

Fuck.

“Father!” Junsu protested. “He's incapable!” 

For once Changmin actually agreed with Junsu, but the Master quickly dismissed Junsu's dissent.

“You know Changmin will be the perfect candidate for this,” the Master said sternly, handing the envelope over to Changmin.

Junsu sighed irritably.

The envelope was made out of thick yellow parchment, sealed with red candle wax. 

“I want you to deliver this letter to someone in the Imperial Palace.”

Changmin looked up. “What’s his name?”

“Park Jinyoung.”

“Okay… but why me?”

“Your _power_ , Changmin!” the Master asserted. “The Palace’s defenses are strong and we are weak. But using your power, we will be able to deliver this message safely to Park.”

“Yeah, okay, but—”

“You will not disappoint me, Changmin.”

It was an order.

Changmin straightened himself and bowed. 

“Yes, Master.”

The Master squeezed his shoulder, his expression a mix of melancholy and pride. “The future, Changmin. This is the future.”


	3. Operation Fire

Changmin stepped out of the room and closed the door quietly behind him, muffling the sounds of the Master and Junsu arguing in frantic whispers.

_Fuck._

What did he get himself into?

He was not ready for this.

He didn't even want this.

He should have just been honest with the Master. He should have clarified that his special ability was kind of a spontaneous temporary thing. It wasn’t something he could do all the time. After showing his abilities to Kyuhyun back at their dormitory, it took Changmin a few days to recover properly from all the energy he expended.

And Changmin used ten times more of that energy in his duel with Junsu. He had no idea when he would regain all that energy back, or if he ever would.

Changmin didn’t know what made him agree to accept the mission so easily. Then again, seeing Junsu’s defeated face did kind of make Changmin pretty fucking happy.

 _Fuck Junsu,_ Changmin thought angrily as he hastily pushed open the front doors of the Main House and stormed outside to the snow, nearly clipping Johan the butler in the nose. It was all his fault.

If Junsu didn’t provoke him, he would not have lost control of his core and went into psycho mode. The Master would not have seen what he could do and most likely Changmin would not have been assigned to do this mission.

How could he possibly sneak into the Palace and deliver the message without the help of his ability?

Changmin’s head hurt.

 

* * *

 

“You’re just not prepared enough,” said Kyuhyun incredulously the next morning as Changmin stuffed an extra pair of pants to the bottom of his knapsack. He had to leave enough room to pack a few dozen more bags of cheese crackers.

“I mean, it took years and years for Yoochun to get assigned to do a mission and he has years and years of training and experience under his belt,” Kyuhyun continued, looking uncomfortable. “You? You can’t even hold a sword the right way! What was Master thinking?”

“He saw what I can do with my energy,” said Changmin in a matter-of-fact tone, sniffing a piece of cracker and then popping it into his mouth. Salty.

“Yeah, but you know your ability doesn’t work all the time. And your combat skills are still pretty shit. I don’t know man, but you’re fucking screwed.”

“Thank you for the kind words of encouragement and support,” said Changmin sarcastically.

“I’m just being honest!”

Changmin sighed, adjusting his leather belt bag on his waist. “What can I do about it? Run back to him and say _‘Oh Dear Master, thanks for the lovely offer but no thanks, please choose someone else?’_ It was an order, Kyu. I can’t say no.”

Kyuhyun looked worried, picking at the medical goggles hanging on his neck. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m just going to deliver a message,” said Changmin, swinging his knapsack over his shoulders and heading towards the door. “And I can’t say who and where,” he added quickly before Kyuhyun could ask. “But it doesn’t sound too dangerous. I mean, I survived out on my own for this long, right?”

Kyuhyun nodded reluctantly. “I suppose.”

Changmin patted Kyuhyun on the back. “I’ll be fine,” Changmin promised, reassuring himself too.

 

* * *

 

Junsu was being unusually nice to Changmin. 

He had called Changmin over to the weaponry vault, which was located in a basement situated at the courtyard’s west corner. The vault was a long steel room lined with several rows of wooden cargo boxes that nearly took up the room’s entire length. Junsu turned on the main electricity switch and led Changmin to a battered desk in the far right corner. 

He pulled out a small handheld gun from a nearby box. It was metallic silver and had a thick revolving cylinder, painted in bronze.

“This is a nerf gun,” said Junsu mundanely. “You do know what a nerf gun is, right?”

“Nope,” said Changmin simply, taking the gun from Junsu. Despite its thick size, the nerf gun was extremely light-weighted and just small enough to fit inside Changmin’s big pocket in his belt bag. He unhooked the cylinder and examined the darts inside the cartridge chambers. “Oh, it’s a dart gun.” 

Junsu rolled his eyes. “Technically it’s an acupressure gun so it’s not lethal. Then again, with your ability you probably wouldn’t need to use it anyway.”

Changmin pocketed the nerf gun in his belt. “You’re not insulting me today.” He looked at Junsu with a smug face. Changmin had grown at least several inches taller since he joined the society one year ago and was now towering over the Master’s son. “Daddy scolded you last night?”

Junsu looked like he was about to punch Changmin in the face. He gripped the hilt of his sword that was hanging off his belt, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “I am calm.”

He looked up, fixing his gray eyes on Changmin. Junsu had his father’s eyes, cold and distant.

“Just complete the mission as soon as possible. And don’t make a mess.”

 

* * *

 

The Capital was split into two districts, with the Imperial Palace located at the centermost point in the Inner City. Changmin, who grew up in the slums that populated the larger Outer City, never had the leisure to explore the prestigious inner district. As an upper class community, it was dominated by the wealthy and heavily guarded by government prefects and soldiers. Every time Changmin tried to cross the border, he was shooed away by intimidating Wall Guards.

The two districts were separated by a large river that wove through the Capital like a coiled snake. A sturdy steel bridge that stretched half a mile across the river connected the two sectors together. The bridge was bustling with activity of all sorts; steam cars and horse-drawn carriages were zooming back and forth in the road. Busy-minded pediatricians walked briskly through while others sat on benches to admire the gleaming river scenery. Changmin uttered a breath of wonder as he looked out into the river skyline that separated the two districts. He had no idea that the Capital was this big.

The Inner City at the end of the bridge was guarded by a tall stone wall approximately two hundred meters in height and three miles in radius. Two large steel doors with tigric symbols secured the entrance of the Inner City, but from Changmin’s knowledge these doors usually stayed open so citizens of the two districts could freely pass through. 

Changmin, dressed plainly but neatly in loose leather pants, a button-up shirt, and a thick oversized coat, managed to pass through the doors without getting double looks. 

His jaw dropped as he entered the metropolis, speechless. The Inner City was like a floating city in the sky, cluttered with high-rise buildings so tall they shot through the clouds. Small commercial airships flew low and steady through the skyscrapers and upside down rail tracks curled around buildings that had train stations on its rooftops.

The grounds were even busier than the skies. It was an organized chaos; numerous food trolleys and shopping alcoves were lined along wide and narrow streets. People were heading in and out of shops, carriages coming in and out of overpasses. Technology was everywhere. Changmin got preoccupied with a young boy trying to fix his battered-looking steam jetpack, but instead of shooting himself in the air he ended up crashing into the outside tables of a coffee shop, enraging the customers. Changmin laughed.

Engrossed with city life, Changmin aimlessly walked through Inner City, his head turning back and forth to capture every single detail of his surroundings. He almost forgot his purpose of coming until a short messenger boy wearing a flat cap bumped into him hastily, spitting in his face.

“A NEW DECREE!” shouted the boy, causing Changmin to jump in surprise.

The boy handed him a handbill made of expensive parchment. Changmin squinted at the characters etched on the paper. Why was he even trying? It’s not like he could read. 

“A NEW DECREE HAS PASSED!” the boy continued to scream, waving the handbills in the air and pushing through the crowds. “By the Order of His Royal Majesty and the Four Lord Regents!”

“The government is finally taking action,” Changmin heard a man say beside him.

“You really think there’s going to be a rebellion?” another man asked.

“Of course! Foreigners ruling Ryu land? I’d be surprised if there was no anti-Jo sentiment at all.” 

“And what if the loyalists win?”

“If you want to keep your head, I say we stay neutral until then.”

The two men shuffled away. Changmin scanned his handbill, trying to see if he could find words that he could recognize on the decree.

_The mission._

Changmin quickly grabbed at his pocket, his heart pounding. Feeling the weight of the letter, Changmin relaxed. He should not be wasting time.

To Changmin’s surprise, it wasn’t hard to find the Imperial Palace at all. The main road eventually led to a large city square park, crowded with happy families enjoying their late afternoon in the low, winter sun. Tall naked trees scattered around in an oval shape, as if they were hugging the entrance of the Palace.

The Palace was across the square.

The walls defending the Palace were almost as tall as the walls surrounding the outer rim of the Inner City. They were painted in bright red—the color of royalty—and decorated with carvings of tigers and dragons, the symbols for harmony and power. Ten palace guards twice the size of Changmin were cladded in gold armor from head to toe and stood guard at the entrance, a large round steel door with golden bolts. The Palace walls stretched so far on either side that Changmin couldn’t see the end of them.

_“I want you to deliver this letter to someone in the Palace,” said the Master calmly, lighting a cigar as he sat down on his plush red armchair by the fireplace. “He was one of my pupils. Three years ago, we sent him to infiltrate the Palace, but we’ve lost contact. We haven’t heard from him in many months.”_

_Changmin looked at the letter. It was encased in an envelope, sealed in red candle wax. It was addressed to no one._

_“We’ve decided that delivering a message to him personally would be the safest option. The telegraphs coming in and out of the Palace are always monitored and sending out a raven is too risky.”_

_Changmin nodded. “I understand. You want me to use my power to sneak into the Palace and find him.”_

_“Precisely, Changmin. He goes by the name Park Jinyoung in the Palace. Last time we’ve contacted, he said he was stationed at the Department of Eunuchs. You do not need to tell him who you are. Just give him this letter, and he will understand. This is a top secret mission, Changmin. Keep safe.”_

_“I got it.”_

Changmin didn’t _got it._

First off, Changmin didn’t know when he would be able to use his special ability again. Second off, even if his ability came back, Changmin could only stay invisible. He could not bend matter and walk through walls. (He had attempted that before and almost broke his nose.) How was he supposed to sneak past the guards to get into the Palace?

Changmin walked over to the tree that was closest to the Palace entrance, but far enough so it wasn’t within eyeshot of the entrance guards. He jumped and kicked, willing the little energy he had left in him to propel him to the tallest tree branch. He sat glumly on the bough, his legs swinging back and forth.

“How am I going to get past those guards?” Changmin mumbled to himself, frowning.

Maybe he could find a way to climb over the Palace Wall? He looked up. There were similarly-dressed guards standing on top of the wall, guarding their own post. No. That wouldn’t work.

He set down his knapsack in front of him and rested his chin on his hands, staring dully at the main Palace gateway. The guards stood as still as statues. A cold breeze swept past Changmin and he shivered.

There couldn’t possibly be only one entrance to the Palace. Changmin was sure there must be some secret doorway around the corner, but even so, most likely that door was heavily guarded as well.

Changmin looked at his hands cautiously. He pushed at his core and felt his internal energy coursing through his limbs. A small ball of faint light appeared above his palms, but when Changmin attempted to make himself disappear, the ball faded. He groaned, covering his face with his hands. His ability still wasn’t working.

He leaned back and crossed his arms, his mind swirling. Maybe he should wait a few days—or a few weeks, months—and just wait until his ability returned to him before taking action.

Or maybe he should just leave, run away—ditch the Society. He was free now; he was no longer under the Master’s supervision, no longer under his silver eye. Changmin gave no shits about being the best pugilist in the world and he especially gave no fucks about restoring the Ryu Dynasty. If Changmin went back, the Master would definitely train and push Changmin to turn his special ability into a ruthless weapon. He would be treated as a machine for the rest of his life.

But Changmin also didn’t want to live as a runaway, as an escaped prisoner, for the rest of his life. Make no mistake; if Changmin ran away now, the Society would hunt him down to the ends of the earth. Changmin shivered as he thought about all the horrible things the Society could possibly do to him if they ever caught him on the run. Even as a bystander, the Society wanted to kill him. What would they do if they knew he wanted to run away? It wasn't something pleasant to think about.

He mentally slapped himself in the face. How could he even consider running away? The Master may see him as a treasured weapon, but he still treated him kindly and sheltered him when Changmin had nothing. His friend… Kyuhyun was family that Changmin never had. Leaving the Society would be a disloyalty to both of them.

Changmin was so deep in thought that he didn’t even realize someone had crept up behind him.

“Thinking about sneaking into the Palace?”

Changmin jumped, losing his balance. He slipped off the tree branch—his heart leaped and he closed his eyes, expecting to fall face first on the ground, but a hand suddenly grabbed him by the wrist.

“Gotchya—” 

She caught Changmin in time. He was hanging off the branch; his knapsack had slipped off his back and its straps were now tangled to his feet. Changmin felt his belt with his free hand and held onto his gun, which was slipping off.

“Hold on,” said the girl. Her grip on Changmin’s wrist tightened. She pulled him up with great effort and Changmin held onto another branch behind for support. 

“Th-thanks,” said Changmin, catching his breath. He untangled his knapsack from his feet and felt his pocket. Good. The letter was still there.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, wiping the sweat off her face with her sleeve. She was probably around Changmin’s age. She looked sweet, pretty, with large brown eyes and a tall forehead. Her sleek black hair was tied messily in a ponytail and she was dressed comfortably in loose carpenter pants, with a pair of large blowtorch goggles on her head.

“It’s okay,” said Changmin, strapping on his knapsack. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

She leaned in to take a closer look at Changmin. He backed away nervously. 

“So, were you trying to sneak into the Palace?”

Changmin’s heart pounded. “What?” he cried, looking offended. 

“Why else are you up here sitting on top of a tree?” she asked, pointing out the obvious. “I was watching you. You were staring at the Palace gates for a _very_ long time.”

“None of your business,” Changmin scoffed as he started to climb down. 

He stopped. “Wait. Then why are you sitting up here?”

“I sell and trade machine scraps. My stand is just right down there.” She pointed below her. Changmin looked—her flimsy-looking merchandise stand was right under their tree.

“I don’t know why you’re here but I like to climb up this tree once in a while to take a rest. I like the shade here,” said the girl in a sing-song voice. She yawned and crossed her arms behind her, leaning back. She eyed Changmin curiously.

“Ergh… that’s nice. Hope your business does well. Have a nice day,” said Changmin quickly as he climbed down.

“Wait, is that a nerf gun?” the girl squeaked, sitting up so quickly the tree branches rattled. She sat comfortably on the tip of the branch. She had great balance.

Changmin stopped climbing. “Yeah?”

She looked at him with pleading eyes. “Can I see it?” she asked happily.

Changmin paused. The girl didn’t look like she wanted to shoot him in the face and she sounded sincere. He might as well indulge her. “Okay.” He climbed back up to her level and unhooked the gun from his belt.

“It’s actually an acupressure gun. Whatever that means,” said Changmin as he handed his gun to her.

“It means it attacks our pressure points,” she said flatly, in a way that made Changmin feel stupid. “Wow, this is fascinating!” she cried out in awe, examining the gun from its hilt to its head thoroughly. “Such a unique design!”

Changmin was about to ask the girl to elaborate but the dense creaking sounds of the Palace gates opening caught his immediate attention. He swung around and saw two slim men dressed in long blue robes emerging behind the Palace gates. They greeted one of the Palace guards and gave him a large wooden sign. The Palace guard placed the sign in front of him.

“Hey, can you read?” asked Changmin, his eyes on the sign.

“Pssh, of course. You can’t?” the girl inquired, still occupied with Changmin’s acupressure gun.

“No. What does that sign say?” Changmin pointed at the sign.

The girl looked over at Changmin’s direction. “Oh. That says palace eunuch application.”

The light bulb in Changmin’s brain switched on. This looked too easy.

“Thanks!” Changmin grabbed his gun from the girl’s hands and scrambled down the tree.

“Hey, where are you going so fast?” 

“Somewhere!”

“You wanna sell me your gun?” yelled the girl.

“Not for sale!” Changmin shouted back. He hopped off the last branch of the tree and ran to the Palace gates.

Changmin stopped in front of the Palace guard standing behind the sign. The guard seemed at least seven feet tall and Changmin was only up to his nose. Wearing full golden body armor, the guard wore a helmet that covered his entire face, with only a tinted eye shield for vision and a few slits down the mask for breathing.

The guard tilted his head at Changmin as if waiting for him to speak.

“I—uh—I’m applying to be a palace eunuch,” said Changmin nervously.

The guard nodded. He moved aside and stuck out his arm, motioning Changmin to step into the Palace.

The area inside the Palace walls looked like it could fit in two city squares. Changmin couldn’t exactly process what he was seeing— he had never seen so much greenery before. Green hills rolled endlessly in all directions and a winding stream of clear water flowed through the valleys. Perched on top of the largest hill was a mansion—no, a castle. It was a castle, with towers and fortified walls. 

Changmin headed towards the direction of the castle but a plump, grumpy-looking old man redirected Changmin to a valley on his left. The valley led into a large alleyway between two curtain walls.

“Palace eunuch application, right?” asked the old man nonchalantly, looking bored. His voice was high and squeaky and he was wearing purple velvet robes, the distinguished garments of a ranked palace eunuch.

“Yes,” said Changmin, bowing.

“The castration room is over there.” The eunuch pushed Changmin into the alley. “Go all the way down.”

Changmin’s breathing hitched. _Castration room?_

That wasn’t exactly part of the plan.

Changmin’s original plan was to pose as a eunuch, not be one. 

_I’m fucking screwed,_ Changmin thought as he was pushed into the alley. He couldn’t jump over the walls as they were too high, and he couldn’t back right out because there were palace patrolmen guarding the hall entrance.

The walls were so high it blocked the sunlight. It was dark, chilly, and foreboding. Changmin’s senses were vibrating.

He should have asked if he could apply to be a Palace guard instead.

“No—please—” 

Changmin’s ears pricked up, his heart pounding.

“Goddammit—hold him down, Max—”

“No—sir—I’ll do anything—”

“I can’t, this is your punishment—”

The voices were getting louder and louder as Changmin walked deeper into the alleyway. His heart was pounding through his chest.

The alley led him into a smaller courtyard. A large but battered-looking house with yellow roof tiles and grimy windows stood at the end of the court.

A scream of agony tore through the silent courtyard. Changmin’s breathing quickened, his legs shaking. He had never heard such a painful scream in his life.

Changmin wanted to leave, wanted to forget about this, wanted to give up on the mission and just go back to the Society and tell everyone he failed—he rather live in shame than live without balls—but Changmin’s legs didn’t seem to be cooperating with his mind and he stepped into the house.

The lounge room looked like it was in derelict condition. The air was damp, musky, and smelled like a mixture of feet, sweat, and dicks. Small jars were displayed all over the walls, strung together in ropes.

A middle-aged lady who resembled a large fat pigeon sat stiffly behind a counter. She looked up when she heard Changmin walk in.

“Applying to be a palace eunuch?” she asked Changmin in a disinterested voice, sounding flat and nasally.

Changmin wanted to shake his head and say no but somehow he did exactly the opposite. He nodded.

She curled a stubby finger at him. “C’mere,” she drawled.

Another agonizing scream rang through Changmin’s ears. He jumped.

“Oh, just another operation,” the lady said as if it was the most normal thing to listen to every day.

Changmin stepped up to the counter, his senses piking. Behind the counter was a large fire pit and a hallway with four large doors on either side. Two of them were ajar and Changmin could see the head of someone strapped on what looked like an operation table.

“Huh,” said the lady as she looked at Changmin, her eyebrows furrowed. “Ya look exactly like Max. Hey, Max!” She shouted over her shoulder. “Yer have a twin!”

“I’m a bit busy right now!” a high voice replied inside one of the operation rooms.

The lady wheezed. She grabbed a stack papers in her drawer and threw it on the table. “Yer nose is a bit taller doe.”

She pulled out a quill and dipped it in ink. “Anyway—yer here to apply to be a palace eunuch, right?”

Changmin heard grunting in the operation room. He broke out in cold sweat.

“Wh-what?” 

The lady sighed, unamused. “I asked, are ya here to apply to be a palace eunuch?”

Changmin hesitantly nodded, his eyes not leaving the hallway.

She rummaged through her stack of papers. “Arntchya a bit too old to apply now? You must be desperate for money.”

Changmin didn’t really hear what she said. He heard panting in the operation room and his heart was beating so fast it felt like it was trying to pound out of his chest.

“Ya know what yer getting yourself into, right kid? All male palace servants must be castrated. Yer gonna have to get yer jewels chopped off.” 

Alarmed, Changmin looked at her. The lady grinned lazily and her hands made a grabbing gesture. 

He visibly gulped. 

Then something caught his eye.

A fresh set of eunuch robes lay untouched on a chair next to her. Changmin’s heart leaped. Maybe if he could somehow distract the lady, sneak across the counter and grab the clothes—

“Name?” The lady had with her pen and paper.

“Sh-shim Changmin.” Another scream echoed through the halls. Changmin clutched his own balls protectively.

The lady was asking him more questions and Changmin replied to them mindlessly, not paying any attention to them at all. His legs were shaking. What the fuck did he get himself into?

“Ya know you can back out now if yer want to—”

Changmin’s mind was racing, his groin feeling fuzzy. 

Thick fingers grabbed Changmin’s thumb and dipped it in warm ink, impressing his fingerprint on the document. 

Another scream.

Changmin’s core tightened, his chest heating up. It’s over—they’re going to cut him clean—he closed his eyes shut—

“What the fuck? Where did he go?”

Changmin opened his eyes. The lady stared through him, her boring eagle-like face now looking alert and shocked.

His ability returned!

Changmin ducked under the counter to hide, just in case he accidentally materialized. He heard the lady’s chair scrape the floor as she got up. She waddled over to Changmin’s side of the counter. Tensing his core, Changmin took a few steps back to avoid hitting into her. _Please don’t let her see me—_

“Hello?” the lady bellowed in frustration.

Changmin tip-toed behind the counter. He gritted his teeth, feeling his hold on his inner energy almost slipping off. He quickly grabbed the eunuch robes.

And then he made a mess.

Changmin broke into a run, accidentally knocking down the fire pit in the process. A ring of fire immediately filled the room. The lady screamed.

“Fire!” she shrieked. “FIRE!”

“Holy fuck!” 

A few men emerged from the operation rooms and immediately ran to the back of the hall to drain their clothes with water. 

“Call help!”

“The well is over there—”

“Save the jewels!”

They all panicked. The house was filled with black smoke and Changmin knew his chance to escape was now. Losing control of his energy, he materialized behind the fat bird lady, who was too busy waving her hands and ordering people around to put down the fire to notice him.

Changmin scrambled out of the castration room and hid behind a large tree. Over a dozen eunuchs holding pots of water were running into the house, screaming incoherently. Changmin quickly discarded his clothes and slipped on the eunuch robes.

After making sure the letter was tucked securely inside his robes, Changmin hastily stuffed his gun into his knapsack and ran out of the courtyard.

A loud bang like an explosion resonated through the alleyway and trembled through the ground, almost shaking Changmin off his feet.

“Oh no!” a young eunuch shrilled in horror as he brushed past Changmin. “My jewels!”

A raw feeling of dread tore through Changmin’s gut. He ran back to the house.

Changmin’s jaw dropped at the sight in front of him.

The castration room had exploded into pieces.


	4. Book of the White Tiger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it took me nearly 20k words to build up the bg and setting lol OTL. I wasn't expecting it to take this long. I know this story has been pretty light and weird so far. It's going to get a lot darker after this chapter. thanks for your patience and thanks for reading \o/

It was completely blown apart.

Remnants of the castration room were scattered all over the courtyard. Wood, tiles, and rubble littered the ground. The area where the house once stood was engulfed in flames, and Changmin could hardly see through the cloud of dust and raining debris.

The eunuchs were screaming in terror. They scrambled around the destroyed courtyard, trying to put out the fire with water and dirt. Changmin’s heart sank when he saw some eunuchs crushed in the burning rubble. 

“Get the firetrucks!” An angry voice cried out.

Changmin walked closer to the fire, his eyes wide in shock. His legs felt like jelly. His brain felt numb. _Did I do this?_

The grueling sounds of steam-powered engines roared behind him. Palace guards carrying large hoses rushed to the site and sprayed the fire with water.

Changmin’s legs gave away and he sank to the ground. 

_I did this._

Changmin did not know how long he sat there on the ground, but the next thing he knew, the fires were extinguished and the smoke was clearing. A light breeze swept the court. The air smelled like soot and ashes.

A few dozen eunuchs already began to clean up the debris, looking disheveled from fighting the fire. Others stared blankly at what was left of the explosion, emotionless.

“My jewels!” One eunuch moaned and burst into tears. “My pearls! Destroyed!” 

“That’s our destiny, John,” said another in a shaky voice, patting the tearful eunuch on the back. He looked at the disaster site sadly. “To be incomplete.”

Changmin felt miserable. This fire was his fault. 

A tall Palace guard in a fitting bronze armor and a rippling red cloak brushed passed Changmin, treading through the crushed rubble. “Bailey!” he called out, his voice strong and assertive.

Bailey, a mousey-looking young man dressed in a blue military outfit, looked up from the ruins. “None of them survived the fire, Lord Kangin!”

Changmin’s stomach lurched with guilt and confusion. He buried his head in his arms.

Kangin let out a long, stressed sigh. “How about the eunuch records?” 

“Fortunately, most of them are safe,” said Bailey, walking to Kangin. “The files were kept in fire-retardant cabinets so they were not destroyed in the fire. We probably lost some of the newer records, though.”

“How many bodies?” asked Kangin.

“We found six. They are too burned to be identifiable, but we did ID one of them. Park Jinyoung.”

Changmin’s head shot up. His heart skipped a beat.

“My lord!” shouted Changmin, scrambling over the rubble mess to Kangin and Bailey. They looked at Changmin with odd expressions.

“My lords,” said Changmin again when he reached them, bowing. “Excuse me, but—did you say that—one of the bodies was identified to be—Park Jinyoung?”

“Who are you, little eunuch?” asked Kangin, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I—uh—Max,” Changmin blurted out, remembering his doppelganger.

“Oh,” said Bailey. “I remember you. I remember seeing you at the castration chambers.”

“Yes, I serve there,” Changmin lied.

Bailey nodded. “Yes, young Max. We have just identified that one of the bodies was Park Jinyoung, one of our orchiectomy surgeons.”

Changmin groaned. He sank to his knees, burying his fingers in his mangled hair. Fear bubbled like acid in his stomach. He felt like throwing up. 

_I killed the mission._

“Are you alright?” said Bailey, approaching Changmin.

“No,” groaned Changmin, clutching his stomach. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“OH DEAR!” A loud, boastful voice thundered through the courtyard. “What happened here?”

“My Lord Rella!” cried Bailey, bowing.

“Oh no, oh no!” Lord Rella’s voice was high and shrilly. He ran to Kangin, his hands waving animatedly in the air. A smaller eunuch treaded clumsily after him, holding the ends of his long robes.

Lord Rella was a ranked eunuch. He had on deep purple robes that were adorned with golden flower designs, and wore a large obnoxious pearl necklace that hung down to his stomach. His long black hair was tied in a clean bun. His round sunglasses flickered in the red sunlight.

“Hello, Heechul,” said Kangin, nodding his head politely. “As you can see, there’s been a terrible accident.” He gestured his arm at the burned site. “We found six bodies. We identified one of them to be Park Jinyoung, a castration surgeon.”

Lord Rella—or Heechul, whatever— gasped and clasped his hands together. His face was pale and distraught. “How did this happen?” he whispered.

“We’re still investigating, Lord Rella,” said Bailey.

“My lords,” a young eunuch in burned robes cautiously walked up to Heechul and bowed respectfully. He pointed at Changmin. “I saw him running out of the fire.”

“Max,” said Kangin sternly as he turned to Changmin swiftly, his red cloak billowing in the wind. “What happened?”

Changmin had never felt so small in his life. He was still in his knees. “I—uh—”

“Max? Where’s Max?” exclaimed Heechul, looking around everywhere but at Changmin, who was kneeling behind him.

“Here,” grunted Kangin, turning Heechul’s head to face Changmin.

Heechul lowered his head, leaning closer to Changmin. Coming face-to-face, Heechul snapped off his sunglasses quickly, causing Changmin to flinch. He looked at Changmin in wonder.

Changmin trembled, letting out shallow breaths. He stared into Heechul’s smoky, gray eyes. He was blind.

“You poor boy,” Heechul cooed. 

Changmin gaped at him, a loss at what to say.

“Max, what happened?” Kangin repeated.

“I—uh—I don’t know—”

“You _don’t know_?”

“Youngwoon,” Heechul said softly, putting a hand on Kangin’s shoulder. “I can’t see, but you can! Look at the poor boy. He’s obviously distraught and in shock. Don’t pressure him.”

Kangin looked at Changmin grimly and pursed his lips.

“I don’t know—” Changmin choked, tears of guilt welling into his eyes. “It was an accident—it all happened so suddenly, I don’t know—”

“It’s okay, Maxi,” Heechul coaxed, patting Changmin in the head. He put back on his sunglasses and took Changmin’s hand, pulling him up. “Take care of this mess, will you my dear Youngwoon? I’ll handle the boy.”

“I’m already on it.”

Kangin and Bailey nodded at Heechul respectfully before walking back to the explosion site.

Heechul turned to Changmin. “Come along.”

He dragged Changmin by the hand. Heechul’s eunuch boy held onto Heechul’s other hand and led him out of the courtyard. A horse-drawn carriage with an inclined roof decorated with bright pink ribbons was waiting outside for Heechul. A plump eunuch dressed in blue robes was by the coachman’s seat.

“Where to, my lord?” 

“To my chambers please, thank you, Roe.”

Roe hopped out of his seat and opened the carriage door. With the help of his eunuch boy, Heechul stepped inside carefully. He held out a hand to Changmin. 

“Come along,” he said sweetly.

Heechul was quiet throughout the ride and Changmin wasn’t in the mood to ask what was going on or where he was taking him. He was still in a state of shock. Six innocent people died in that fire. If he wasn’t so clumsy—if he was just a little more careful—he wouldn’t have knocked down the fire pit, wouldn’t have started a fire, and the castration room wouldn’t have crashed down. It was all his fault.

And Park Jinyoung, his mission, was dead.

How was he going to explain this to Master?

 _No,_ Changmin thought. _Master can’t know about this._

In what seemed like an eternity to Changmin, the carriage finally came to a stop. Roe opened the door and Heechul stepped out of it proudly. He took a big breath of fresh air, and smiled.

Heechul didn’t look so sad anymore.

The eunuch’s servant boy motioned Changmin to step out. Changmin dismounted the carriage and his jaw dropped at the sight of where Heechul took him.

They were in front of the Palace castle.

Changmin had never seen something so colossal in his life. When he looked up, he couldn’t even see the sky.

Greeted by entrance guards, the eunuch boy led Heechul and Changmin inside to an entrance hall so big it could fit in the entire Main House of the Gods of the East Society. The walls were made out of stone and were lit with flaming torches. Bright red tapestries embedded with a tigric symbol draped upon every wall. There was an ancient feel about the place.

Changmin followed Heechul up a marble staircase. Eunuchs and maids coming in and out of sliding doors greeted Heechul respectfully as they passed through. Heechul wasn’t just a eunuch. He was the Head Eunuch.

He did not count how many flights of stairs he had climbed, but Heechul’s chambers, Changmin presumed, was somewhere in the western side of the Palace. His chambers were two large adjourned rooms connected through an arching doorway. The chamber windows were as tall as the ceiling, and the late afternoon sun streamed into the room.

“Leave us, Xiumin,” Heechul said to the eunuch boy as soon as Changmin stepped into the chamber.

Xiumin bowed and closed the door.

Heechul immediately pressed Changmin on it.

“Who are you?” he whispered in a menacingly sweet voice.

Changmin’s eyes widened, taken aback at Heechul’s sudden change in attitude. “What? I’m Max!” 

Heechul’s grip on Changmin’s shoulders tightened. Changmin was surprised at how strong Heechul was despite his dainty size.

“It’s strange for a lowly eunuch to have such strong internal energy,” said Heechul, his hands grazing over Changmin’s chest. He took off his sunglasses and leaned in closer, his milky eyes narrowing. “I cannot see but I am not blind.” Heechul’s hand slid down to Changmin’s abdomen and then to his front. He felt Changmin’s length and clutched it. Changmin let out a gasp.

“You are not Max. You are not even a eunuch. You are an intruder.”

“Please my lord! I can explain—”

“Explain?” gasped Heechul dramatically, giggling. “You actually want to explain to me why you want to intrude the Palace? How funny!”

“My lord—” Changmin began, breathing hard. He struggled in Heechul’s strong grip. “I’m n-not an in-intruder.”

Heechul dropped his smile and tossed Changmin to the floor.

Changmin crouched, kowtowing.

“Not an intruder?” asked Heechul sweetly. “Then what are you?”

“I’m just a street urchin, my lord!” cried Changmin, face on the floor. “I—I was applying to be a eunuch but then the fire happened, and I escaped and—it was—it was just an accident! I didn’t know…”

“Oh, I see,” said Heechul lightly, clicking his tongue. “What a timely accident. No worries, boy. No harm shall come to you. I’ll rearrange another castration surgery.”

“No, please!” Changmin broke out into cold sweat. He crawled over to Heechul and held onto the end of his robes.

_Oh._

Changmin looked up, dread dawning on his face. Heechul was smiling.

“No?” asked Heechul, his voice high and girly.

Changmin released Heechul’s robes and sank to the floor. He got him.

“So you don’t want to be a eunuch?” asked Heechul casually, now picking at his nails.

“If I was given a choice, I rather not.”

“You have no choice.”

“I’ll do anything, my lord. Please don’t turn me in.”

_“Anything?”_

Though Heechul was blind, he walked over to the right side of his chamber with ease. He sat on an armchair and put on his large sunglasses. “I can feel your internal energy. It is very strong, boy.”

“Innate talent, I guess.”

Heechul’s face looked over at the window. The sunlight lit up his pale, sullen face.

“Max.”

Changmin looked at Heechul. 

“I do have something I want you to do for me.”

 

* * *

 

They made a deal. As long as Changmin did whatever Heechul told him to do, Heechul would not reveal his uncastrated identity to the authorities and Changmin and his balls would be safe, praise the gods.

But Heechul only told Changmin to do one thing.

And that was to spy on Lady Regent Hyori.

Shortly before King Geonmyeong's death two years ago, he had appointed his concubine Hyori, his brother-in-law Eric, and Northern Generals Hyesung and Junjin as Lord Regents to overrule the Kingdom until his successor and only son, King Shinmu, came of age. For the past two years, the Four Lord Regents ruled with absolute power, and Lady Regent Hyori was named the leader of the four.

In order to prevent any suspicion of collusion, Heechul told Changmin to take over the identity of Max, the new young eunuch from the castration quarters who supposedly survived from the fire. He assigned Changmin to work as an assistant in the Royal Kitchens, a large roofless hall that was located in the Palace’s east wing.

Frankly, Changmin quite enjoyed working in the Palace kitchens. He developed an interest in cooking during his days with his old masters, as it became a medium to help Changmin forget his pain and struggle. The Palace kitchens were seriously a cooking heaven. Glittering pots and pans were stacked on tables that seemed to stretch on for miles. Fancy sinks and stoves the size of freight carts decorated the walls. The ice storages were so big they took up a quarter of the kitchen halls. Changmin had never seen so many cooking ingredients in his life.

If only the Palace wasn’t filled with idiots, Changmin wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life as a kitchen assistant.

During the day, Changmin had to live under the nose of Lord Hero Jaejoong, the Royal Kitchen’s young Head Chef. Jaejoong was not much older than Changmin himself, but with his superb cooking talent, he was able to succeed as the Palace’s youngest ranked eunuch. However, Jaejoong was an arrogant and condescending jerk who had insecurity issues. He would put down anyone who challenged his authority. Working with him, Changmin felt like he was always under a tight leash.

At night, Changmin had to deal with the eccentric Lord Rella Heechul, who was a lot more mysterious than he looked. Heechul never asked Changmin to clarify about the castration room fire, and nor did he seem to be very interested in how it happened. He was far more curious to know about Hyori’s whereabouts during the day, even though Changmin would tell him repeatedly that Hyori would do nothing else besides going to court and resting in her private chambers.

“That’s all she does,” said Changmin one night. Heechul was sitting by the fireplace in his chamber, wearing an obnoxious glittering pink nightgown with fur trims. “After going to court, she just goes back to her room.”

“Uh huh,” replied Heechul, filing his nails.

“I see nothing mysterious. I don’t understand what you want me to look for.”

Heechul looked up at Changmin. The reflection of the flames in the fireplace danced in his sunglasses. “If you want jewels intact, just do what you’re told.”

Fine. Changmin wasn’t planning to stay in the Palace for long anyway. He held Heechul’s promise by a thread. Changmin had been secretly finding time to train his core and internal energy, and as soon as he got a stronger hold of his invisibility power, he would use it to bust out of the Palace. 

A week later, Changmin got the help of a telegrapher at the Palace’s communication stations to send a telegraph to ‘Woogan & Co’—the Society’s disguise—and asked Junsu to come to the Palace during servant visiting hours. Due to the nature of the Palace’s protection laws, the Palace staff was not allowed to leave the Palace, but they were allowed to have their relatives or friends from the outside world visit them once a week.

The visiting area was at the back of the Palace, in an empty courtyard, where the servants met with their visitors through barred gates.

“What the fuck!” greeted Junsu, eyes in fury as he stormed to Changmin.

“Hi to you too,” Changmin jeered, peering through the gate bars. He was glad that the gate was between them because Changmin was sure if it wasn’t Junsu would be strangling him.

“You know how fucking dangerous it is to meet like this?” whispered Junsu angrily, his face turning as red as his hair. 

“My telegraph didn’t look suspicious to anyone, don’t worry.”

Junsu’s eyes wandered up and down Changmin. “Why the fuck are you dressed like this?”

“Long story. Look, I have some pretty bad news.”

Junsu snorted and folded his arms. “I knew it was a bad idea to let you do it.”

“Park Jinyoung died.”

Junsu’s expression faltered. “What?”

Weary that someone may be listening, Changmin looked behind him. The visiting guard was flirting with a palace maid some distance away. “There was a pretty bad fire,” whispered Changmin quickly, obviously omitting the details that he was the one who started it. Junsu didn’t need to know that. “I couldn’t give the letter to him.” 

Junsu looked down, thinking hard. “Do you still have the letter with you?”

“Yeah.” Changmin made sure they were not being watched before pulling the letter out of his robes. He kept the letter with him at all times as it would be too risky to leave it unattended.

“Did you look at it?” whispered Junsu as Changmin slipped the letter to him through the gates.

Changmin snorted. “You think I know how to read?”

Junsu gave him an unimpressed look. He ripped open the letter and read it.

“Look,” started Changmin in a low voice, feeling paranoid. “Since I can’t complete the mission, there really is no point of me of staying here anymore. People here are kind of crazy. So I’ve been training my inner energy. I’m thinking that maybe you can—”

“No,” Junsu interrupted.

Changmin stared at him. “No what?”

“No, you have to stay here.”

“Why? I can’t complete the mission anymore!”

“Well, _now_ you have another mission!” Junsu hissed back impatiently.

“What are you even talking about?”

Junsu moved closer to Changmin. “Have you heard of the Book of the White Tiger before?” he asked, voice low.

“Yeah, of course. Everyone has heard of the story before. Something about how the first King wrote a book that tells you how to make an indestructible war machine. It’s a very famous Jo legend.”

“What if I told you it’s not a legend?”

Changmin’s eyes widened. “It’s real?”

“As real as you and me.”

Changmin’s eyebrows furrowed. “But what does that got to do with this mission?”

“Because the book is _in_ the Palace, Changmin. My father has been searching for this book for years. Remember what happened a year ago? The incident that you witnessed? My father originally thought that the late King wanted to smuggle the book out of the Palace, and the carriage that caught fire, the very fire that you witnessed, was one of the decoys that were sent out. So my father sent spies to search for the book all over the Kingdom. Park Jinyoung was one of them. But it wasn’t until recently that we’ve received news that the book actually never left the Palace in the first place. This letter to Park Jinyoung was to tell him that he should stay in the Palace and continue the search.”

Changmin stared at him. Everything made sense now. No wonder the Master had always been so secretive about his missions. 

“Not many pugilists know about the existence of this book, but those who do are searching for it. We have to stay ahead,” said Junsu, his face serious.

“So you want me to look for it.”

“Now that Park Jinyoung is out, you’re our only option.”

Changmin sighed, feeling a headache coming. “I don’t want to do it.”

Junsu shot Changmin another look. “Do you really think you have a choice?”

Changmin looked away. No, he didn’t.

It was going to be a really long year.

 

* * *

 

Changmin returned to the Royal Kitchens to a very angry Hero Jaejoong.

“You didn’t follow directions,” Jaejoong sneered in that extremely annoying high voice of his. His thin finger pointed at a flat wheelbarrow that was piled with the hand-pulled noodles Changmin had made the previous night. He kicked them to the floor. 

Everyone in the kitchen halls quieted down immediately.

Changmin clenched his fists, fury building up inside his chest.

“We can’t use this,” said Jaejoong, his golden eyes staring coldly at Changmin. “You’re going to have to do it all over again.”

“Lord Hero,” said Changmin through gritted teeth, trying to press his urge to yell. “I worked on this all night.”

“But you didn’t—follow—my—directions.”

“I did, my Lord. It’s just that I made little touch-ups—”

“Touch-ups?” cried Jaejoong, his voice raising. “So you’re saying that my recipe is not good enough?”

“No, that’s not what I meant! I meant to say—”

“Who’s the Head Chef here?”

“You, but—”

“And who are you, Max Changmin?”

Changmin scowled, then sighed. “Kitchen assistant.”

“You do not make the rules here, understand?”

Changmin hung his head. “Yes, my lord.”

Jaejoong’s lips quivered into a cold grin. “Fix this. Do it all night if you have to, but the noodles have to be ready by morning so we can serve them to His Majesty and Her Lady Regent.” 

“Yes, my lord.”

Jaejoong whipped his plum-colored robes to the side and stalked out of the kitchen halls, kicking Changmin’s noodles on his way out. His two eunuch slaves trailed after him awkwardly.

The kitchen broke back into their usual chatter as soon as Jaejoong left.

Changmin stared at his noodles numbly for a few seconds before bending down to pick up the mess. Changmin’s new friend, the kitchen eunuch Minho, ran over to help him. 

He looked at Minho and sighed. “I was just trying to help.”

“You know how Lord Hero is,” said Minho gently. “He doesn’t like changes. And he feels threatened.”

Changmin choked back a bitter laugh. “Threatened? By who? Me?”

“Honestly though, hyung. We’ve all tasted your samples and you do cook really well.”

“Well, Lord Hero can keep his balls because I’m not coming for his spot.”

 

* * *

 

It was probably midnight. The bright moon hung brilliantly in the middle of the night sky as Changmin proceeded to make his third set of hand-pulled noodles.

He was in a small courtyard behind the Royal Kitchens. He clamped a large rolling staff between his legs and sat on it, using his body weight to press on the flour that was laid messily over the wooden countertop. Changmin was sweating profusely as he had been making noodles the entire night. 

“Hyung, I’m done for the night. Do you need any help?” asked Minho as he closed the common kitchen door behind him.

“No, I’m fine. Thanks, Minho. You helped me out enough today,” said Changmin, wiping his sweat with his sleeve.

“Are you sure? I can stay.”

“Yeah, go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay… see you.”

Changmin worked diligently and quietly for the next hour—pressing noodles, kneading them, drying them, then cooking them. The still of the night was calming. It felt good to not have Heechul and Jaejoong’s shrilly voices screaming into his head for once.

As he was about to press his fourth set of noodles, Changmin saw a shadow stir behind him.

Changmin whipped around. He saw the ends of a white cloak slip into the Royal Kitchens. 

Changmin’s stomach churned. Did he forget to lock the door? The Royal Kitchens were restricted to only those with official approval. If Jaejoong knew someone tried to sneak in he would give Changmin a very hard time. Changmin narrowed his eyes and grabbed his rolling staff. 

He willed himself to disappear and quietly tiptoed to the kitchen entrance, holding his staff over his head. A young eunuch with white robes turned on the kitchen lights and rushed to the end of the hall in quick footsteps. Changmin watched him crouch down and open a food cabinet.

Changmin materialized and ran over to the eunuch, his staff raised in the air.

The eunuch had quick reflexes.

“Woah!”

He stopped Changmin’s staff before it could hit him.

His grip was strong for a eunuch.

“Who are you?” Changmin bellowed. “How did you get in here? These kitchens are off-limits!”

The eunuch looked startled, his pale face flushed. “Th-the door was ajar. I was hungry so I came in to look for some food.”

His stomach growled. Changmin stared at it.

“Sorry,” said the eunuch, looking embarrassed and releasing his grip on Changmin’s staff. “I didn’t know these kitchens were off-limits. If I did, I wouldn’t have come in here. I’m sorry.”

Changmin lowered his staff slowly. The eunuch looked about a year or two older than Changmin. He was quite pretty, with a small face and soft hazel eyes. There was a pristine presence to him.

“The Royal Kitchen is off-limits,” said Changmin, his voice softening. “But the common kitchen down the corridor is opened for everyone.”

The eunuch bowed politely. “I understand now, thank you.”

His stomach growled again. The eunuch’s face blushed with embarrassment.

“Hey, um—I have some leftover food. You can have some.”

Changmin motioned the eunuch to follow him to the back court. He gave him a bowl of noodle soup he had just whipped up moments ago. 

“Thanks!” The eunuch snatched the bowl out of Changmin’s hands and gobbled it all down in a few seconds.

Changmin stared at him with his mouth hanging open. “Wow, you _are_ starving.”

“Oh my god!” cried the eunuch, flashing Changmin a big smile that revealed his dazzling white teeth. “These noodles are delicious! Did you make these?”

Changmin’s heart lifted. He smiled. “You think they taste good too?”

“They’re amazing!”

Changmin’s smile faltered. “Yeah, but too bad Lord Hero doesn’t see it.”

The eunuch pouted his lips. “What about Lord Hero?”

Changmin tossed his staff and sank into a nearby bench. “He’s a jerk, that’s what. I only gave him a few suggestions; just a _few_ suggestions on how to make the recipe taste better but he completely blew me off. And not only that, he also tossed away all the noodles I’ve made. I worked so hard on them!”

“I understand,” said the eunuch as he set the empty bowl aside. “Lord Hero can be a bit stubborn sometimes.”

“Yeah—wait,” said Changmin, casting a stern look at the boy. “You’re not going to go off and tell him about what I told you, right?”

The eunuch shook his head. “No, of course not! It’s none of my business anyway. And I’m sure you probably feel better after telling me.”

“Yeah, I kinda do. Thanks for hearing me out.”

“No problem.”

Changmin sat up from the bench and held out a hand. “My courtesy name is Max, by the way. My real name is Changmin.”

The eunuch took it. His grip was firm. “Hi, Max. I’m U-Know.”


	5. Eyes On the Walls

**— The Era of Shinmu, Second Year (神武二年) —**

Changmin came to the sudden scary realization that he would never be able to own his life.

The letter weighing in his pocket reminded him that his purpose of living was not for himself, but for others. The blue robes he now donned told him that he had become nothing more than an imposter, a puppet, and the lowest of humans, a slave forever bounded to his masters.

Those who serve will always remain servants, and that was Changmin’s reality. He had no other choice but to except it.

Changmin didn’t know if he should consider his encounter with U-Know to be a blessing or a misfortune, but ever since the eunuch in white came into his life, Changmin’s place in the Palace had never been the same since.

Truthfully, Changmin didn’t expect to see U-Know again. After all, there were nearly five thousand eunuchs and four thousand maids employed in the Palace. Meeting servants who lived in different Halls and served under different masters was like finding a needle in a haystack. The sophisticated U-Know definitely didn’t dress like he worked in the Kitchen Halls and nor had Changmin ever seen a eunuch dressed in such pristine white robes before. According to his knowledge, most eunuchs, unless they were ranked, wore blue robes.

But Changmin did end up finding the needle and encountered U-Know again three nights later. While Changmin was delivering supper to one of the eunuch lords in the east wing, he saw U-Know, dressed in white robes again, beating up a training dummy in a deserted common room. U-Know heard Changmin sneak by and dragged him inside, demanding Changmin to duel with him.

“I have no one to train with,” he said with a pout, wiping the sweat off his pure, unblemished face.

Changmin hesitated. After that duel with Junsu back at the Society, Changmin was determined to not pick up another sword again. Fighting was harmful, useless, and didn’t benefit anyone. Not to mention, his skills were also rusty from the lack of practice. Master would not be pleased.

But U-Know looked at him with so much sincerity and sadness, Changmin didn’t have the heart to reject him.

They struck an interesting friendship after that night. Changmin and U-Know began to meet up almost every midnight for some light duels and combat practices in that same common room. Sometimes, U-Know would bring in a few experimental but harmless (or so he claimed) toy weapons with him, telling Changmin that he wanted to “test them out.” Changmin snorted at this excuse on the first night, and then casually asked U-Know where he had stole them, to which the older boy responded by saying that he _borrowed_ them from the court’s secret inventory. “Don’t worry, Max,” he assured. “We won’t get caught. I serve there.”

But Changmin was a peace advocate. He didn't like dueling and, unlike U-Know, didn't find mastering it to be a necessary skill. And besides, dueling required too much effort and expelled too much of his energy. Changmin was, for lack of a better word, a lazy-ass mother fucker. More often than not, Changmin would try to come up with some dumb, half-assed excuses about why he couldn't duel with U-Know, but the smart eunuch in white would always bribe Changmin with money bills, and Changmin could just never say no when it came to money. That fucker.

And besides. He could use another friend.

U-Know was different from the others. Though Changmin was sure he was a higher-ranking eunuch, he allowed Changmin to speak freely and casually to him. He was strangely proficient in martial arts, articulate in speech, and seemed to be pretty well-educated. Only the poorest of men and the most destitute of peasants would sacrifice their manhood to be a Palace servant. Why did U-Know sacrifice his?

When Changmin asked him exactly that one night after dueling with wooden electro blades, U-Know told him (rather reluctantly) that he never had a life outside the Palace. He never had a choice to make. He was well-educated because he once served under Lady BoA, King Shinmu’s personal maid, and was given the opportunity to an education because he was assigned to help the young King in his studies.

 _“Wow,”_ said Changmin jealously while wiping his sweat. “A kingsman! No wonder you look so… clean. Now that the King is older you probably don’t have much work to do anymore.”

U-Know shrugged as he ran his fingers through his raven black hair, his face pink from exertion. “It’s not as great as it sounds.”

“Why? It’s not like the King has much work to do with the Four Regents hanging around. They do all the work for him anyways.”

U-Know shot him an almost-offended look. “Just because the King has adept and loyal subjects by his side doesn’t mean he can just fool around. He has people to protect, promises to fulfill, and an image to uphold.” U-Know looked down at the sheath of his wooden sword and his expression darkened. “Especially for a King who is supported by Regency.”

Changmin was not familiar with politics, but from the gloomy look on U-Know’s face, Changmin could tell that maybe the Royal court was not as united as it appeared on the outside. There was no doubt that U-Know had a deep bond with the young King, and Changmin couldn’t help but to feel a little upset for the pretty boy.

“You must be very close to the King,” said Changmin, looking at U-Know carefully.

U-Know sighed dejectedly. “Yeah, pretty close.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, U-Know twirling his playsword skillfully with one hand and Changmin using his finger to trace the long steam pipes jutting out at the dark corner of the room.

“So,” started Changmin, remembering that he had his own promise to fulfill. “That must mean you’re also pretty close to the Regents.”

U-Know looked up from his sword and eyed Changmin unblinkingly. “What makes you say that?”

Changmin shrugged, trying to keep the conversation as casual as possible. “I mean, you know, the Regents, from what _I_ know, are like the second parents to the King. I’m sure you know a lot about them too.”

U-Know narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “Maybe.”

“So is that a yes or no?”

U-Know bent forward, his face so close to Changmin’s that Changmin could count the pores on his nose. “Why are you so curious?” asked U-Know, eyebrows furrowing together.

Changmin leaned back, the gears in his head tweaking hard to find an excuse. “Well, I—ergh—feel that as a subject of the Royal court, I should try to understand more about who I’m serving?”

That wasn’t even supposed to be a question.

Changmin wanted to disappear and hide away forever for giving such a bullshit excuse to U-Know, but to his surprise, the angelic eunuch grinned at him.

“I actually like you a lot, Max. You’re different from the others,” said U-Know, beaming.

Changmin let out a breath of relief.

A week later Changmin, who had been mingling with some of the elderly eunuch lords and impressing them with his immaculate cooking, was promoted to third assistant chef, a position that was second-in-command after station chefs. Obviously, this did not abide well with the snotty Lord Hero Jaejoong, who refused to assign Changmin his own kitchen assistants. “We don’t have enough people,” was his excuse. Changmin ended up having to prepare all the ingredients himself and had to stay up for longer nights.

Fortunately, U-Know was there to help him out.

“Don’t worry if you add too much salt. It’s better to have more than less,” explained Changmin patiently as he stuffed a piece of raw pork in a small wooden keg. Changmin poured a layer of salt over the pork. “Make sure the salt is spread out evenly.”

It was around midnight and most of the kitchen eunuchs were asleep, except for a few chefs down in the common kitchens. Changmin and U-Know were in the kitchens’ backyard, salting raw pork.

“Looks easy enough,” said U-Know as he grabbed another bag of salt. “How many do you have to do?”

“One hundred,” said Changmin miserably as he closed the keg of pork with its lid. “Thank the gods you’re here. I’ll never finish them all by morning.”

“You don’t have your own assistant?” U-Know inquired, frowning.

“Lord Hero wouldn’t give me one. Besides… no one would want to be my assistant. They’re all afraid of him.”

U-Know sighed and patted Changmin’s back. “I would be your assistant if I could.”

A few days later, Changmin was promoted yet again—to senior station chef, only a few positions below Jaejoong and one position below station sous chef. No one in the Palace had ever witnessed such a fast promotion before, and at seventeen years old, Changmin was the youngest station chef the Palace had ever witnessed. To make matters more confusing, his promotion was actually ordained by the King. Changmin was baffled. He was pretty sure he never met the King before.

“Thank you to His Majesty’s grace,” said Changmin as he accepted his bronze station chef badge from the royal messenger, a ranked eunuch that delivered messages from the King throughout the Palace.

Lord Kangta, the messenger, smiled and patted Changmin’s back. “Congratulations, Senior Max.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Changmin examined the badge. It was carved with the head of a pheasant, a symbol for nobility within the Kingdom.

“Lord Kangta? May I ask… who was the lord who put in good words for me to His Majesty?”

The tall messenger contemplated the question. He then smiled and said faintly, “I’m sure you should know more about that than me, Senior Max.”

Changmin was pretty sure Kangta was trying to tell him something without having to actually tell him but Changmin never got around to figure it out.

 

* * *

 

The Royal Kitchens were separated into five different cooking stations, one responsible for each meal of the day. Under his new title, Changmin was assigned to the station that prepared tea and dessert, an office which, unfortunately, was also one of the busiest. If it wasn't the King and his royal family, then it was the lords and their kin, or the eunuchs and their servants; the high demand for tea within the Imperial Palace had put Changmin constantly occupied during the day.

But Changmin’s busy, upgraded life was not without its perks. His new superior, the sous chef Leeteuk, was a fatherly, wise eunuch lord with a twinkle in his eye. Though he could be quite demanding, Lord Leeteuk treated his subordinates with courtesy, kindness, and understanding. He approved Changmin’s request to get Minho as his assistant; after all, it’s always good to have a friend around to do all the work for you.

More importantly, Changmin now had the excuse to stop seeing Head Eunuch Rella Heechul, who always had the pleasure to remind Changmin why he was even alive. The blind eunuch was a man with a third eye, and he was everything but generous. Changmin knew the Head Eunuch was using him for an ulterior motive, and he couldn’t help but to think that Heechul would eventually kill him if he ever discovered the true reasons of his mission.

But Hero Jaejoong was an obstacle. Changmin’s promotion infuriated him, of course, and the Head Chef would spend every waking moment to make Changmin’s life more miserable than it already was. Though Jaejoong couldn’t exactly order him around like a slave anymore, he did try to publicly humiliate and shame Changmin whenever he could.

It worked. All the kitchen eunuchs avoided him like a plague so they would not get on Jaejoong’s bad side. Even Changmin’s own assistants had gotten reluctant to work with him. If it wasn’t for his green robes, the color of a senior eunuch, Changmin would have been treated more like dog shit.

It had gotten so bad to the point where Jaejoong actually started to spread lies about Changmin.

“I heard our new Senior Max fucked his way up,” a high voice said loudly.

Changmin stopped dead in his tracks. He edged closer to the ajar door of the eunuch common rooms and peeked in, careful to not shake his tray of jasmine tea.

Three young eunuchs were lazing around in a plush chaise longue, each smoking a long pipe. Changmin didn’t recognize any of them, but judging from the looks of their unspoiled blue robes, untainted pale skin and luscious long locks, they were most likely lordservants. Pleasure eunuchs.

“Senior Max of the tea station?” gushed the brunet eunuch sitting on the far right. “He’s _so handsome.”_

“With what?” snarled the blonde eunuch sitting on the left. He blew out a cloud of smoke. “That elephant-size of a nose?”

The other two eunuchs giggled. Changmin was burning.

“But seriously Gilbert, if Senior Max didn’t don the robes of a eunuch, I would have assumed he was a palace guard. He looks... erm...”

“Like he could fuck you really hard and deep?” offered Gilbert, the sharp-tongued blondie.

Changmin’s chest tightened, his groin fuzzy. His cover was at risk.

The brunet eunuch blushed at Gilbert’s obscene words. “He couldn’t... could he?” he added, sounding unsure.

Gilbert rolled his eyes and snorted. “Are you serious, Jean? He’s an empty vase just like the rest of us.”

“I actually heard he’s quite acquainted with the Brocade Guards,” said the eunuch in the middle. He sat up straight and stuck out four delicate fingers. “Four at a time.” 

“Four? What a loose slut!”

The eunuchs howled.

Changmin seethed. He clenched his fists, shaking. The sound of china against china sitting on his tray broke his stealth, but the eunuchs did not seem to have heard him through their laughter.

There was only so much humiliation he could take.

His core tightened. A familiar tingle ran through his arms and vibrated at the tip of his fingertips. His skin glowed. He was ready to attack. But before Changmin could make another move, someone grabbed his shoulder from behind and pulled him away from the door.

It was Leeteuk.

“What _the hell_ were you thinking?” the eunuch lord whispered fiercely, steering Changmin away with force.

“Gonna beat the fuck out of them,” Changmin answered angrily, his knuckles turning white.

Leeteuk pulled Changmin to a halt.

“And then what?” he asked severely. “What would you be getting out of that?”

Changmin whipped around to face him, angrily, disregarding all honorifics. “They said I slept my way to the top.”

“And did you?”

“Of course not!”

“There you go,” he said, his stern brown eyes watching Changmin closely. “The fool thinks he knows all, but the wise man knows he knows nothing.”

“You don’t suppose I just stand here and do nothing, letting them disparage me like this?”

“Yes, that is _exactly_ what I'm telling you to do. You go in there and get physical? I guarantee you your life will only go downhill from there. It’s not worth it.”

Changmin stood there in silence, breathing deeply.

“Only the truth will stand the test of time. Patience, Max Changmin.”

Changmin glared at him.

It was frustrating patience.

He couldn’t wait to find the book, finish the mission, and leave the Palace for good. The Palace was a living hell.

But Changmin had no leads. He had no idea where he should start looking and Junsu had not attempted to contact Changmin again ever since his last visit two months ago.

Changmin needed to come up with a plan as soon as possible.

 

* * *

 

“Senior Max,” greeted Xiumin, Rella Heechul’s personal eunuch boy, as he opened the door to Heechul’s private chambers. “You look,” Xiumin gave Changmin a gracious smile, “troubled.”

It was around midnight and Changmin had just endured an hour-long lecture from Leeteuk about how to properly hold a pastry bag. Changmin’s not exactly in a chirpy mood. Not that he was ever a chirpy guy in the first place.

“Good evening, Xiumin,” Changmin managed to say, forcing a smile.

“Maxi?” Heechul’s shrilly voice was heard inside.

“Yes, my lord,” said Xiumin, stepping aside for Changmin to enter the lounge room. “Senior Max of the Royal Kitchens has arrived.”

“Leave us, Xiumin.”

“Yes, my lord.” Xiumin bowed out of the room, closing the large oak door quietly behind Changmin.

The Head Eunuch was in his bedroom, located in the adjourned room on Changmin’s left. Dancing flames in the fireplace lit up the large chamber to a warm glow. Heechul was lying comfortably in his plush four poster bed, transparent drapes drawn, and smoking a pipe. He was dressed for sleep and Changmin had never seen such an ugly nightgown in his life. The dirty brown color of Heechul’s dress made him look like a dying grasshopper. 

“It’s been a while, Maxi,” Heechul sang and smacked his lips. He was still wearing his sunglasses to hide his unattractive blindness. “I thought you forgot about me.”

Changmin walked over to Heechul’s side and smiled at him through the curtains. “How can I forget about you, my Lord Rella? You saved my life. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be here now.”

“You obviously don’t need any saving,” replied Heechul calmly, setting his pipe aside on the nightstand. “I see that you got promoted again.”

“My lord, I’m sure I got your help with that.”

“I wish I could’ve done that without showing obvious favoritism,” said Heechul unenthusiastically.

Changmin stared at him, confused. “So… it wasn’t you?”

Heechul sat up. “Nope.”

“And all this time, I thought you asked the King to promote me because it would help me with my assignment.”

“Aw, Maxi!” Heechul shrieked, scooting over to Changmin’s side of the bed. “You still remember you had an assignment! And I thought you were too busy fucking to remember.”

“I did not fuck—” Changmin began, his voice raising. He closed his eyes and sighed, feeling foul. “You really believe what Hero Jaejoong said?”

Heechul lied back down on his bed and pointed fleetingly at Changmin’s crotch. “If you did get fucked would you still be around?”

Changmin smiled faintly. Heechul had unconventional ways of showing his trust in him. Changmin was beginning to find the odd eunuch endearing.

Heechul suddenly stuck his pale foot in front Changmin’s face, catching Changmin off guard.

“Massage my foot, will you, Maxi? I’ve been walking _all day_ and my feet hurt.”

Changmin grimaced. Not so endearing anymore.

He walked over to the end of Heechul’s bed and strung the curtains to the bed post. He sat down and gently placed Heechul’s foot on his lap.

Heechul jerked his head back with pleasure as Changmin started to knead the sole of his swollen but soft foot. “Yes, right there,” he hummed. “You have such strong fingers, Maxi.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Changmin massaged Heechul’s foot in comfortable silence for the next few minutes. He stared mindlessly at the moving hands of the mechanical clock hanging above the four poster bed, its gears spinning rhythmically. The scent of the smoke from Heechul’s pipe on the bedside table was soothing.

“So,” Changmin started, looking back at Heechul who was now lying on his silk pillow, smiling peacefully. “You didn’t ask me about Lady Regent Hyori.”

“If you saw anything of interest, you would have told me by now,” replied Heechul calmly.

“I still don’t understand what you want me to look for.”

Heechul sighed deeply and reached out for his pipe to take another smoke. “Look for anything out of the ordinary.”

“Like the Book of the White Tiger?”

Heechul choked into his pipe.

“What?” he asked, his voice squeaking. His eyebrows rose so high it looked like they were trying to pop out of his head.

Changmin’s heart leaped. “The Book of the White Tiger,” he repeated innocently. “There are rumors flying around saying that the book is still in the Palace.”

Heechul frowned. “Who told you that?”

Changmin shrugged as he massaged up to Heechul’s calf. “Just rumors I heard when I was still begging in the streets. They say the book is actually hidden in the Palace.”

Heechul made a twisted face. He settled back down on his pillow and went back to smoking his pipe. “The book is a legend, Max. A myth. It doesn’t exist.”

“Are you sure?” Changmin pressed on eagerly, rubbing Heechul’s calf harder. “I mean—it’s been so many years and people are still talking about it!”

“Do you even know what a legend means?” snapped Heechul. “A legend. It’s a famous story. Of course people talk about it. That doesn’t mean it’s real. I’ve lived in the Palace my whole life and I was never told of the book’s existence.”

“Just because they told you it didn’t exist don’t mean it doesn’t.”

Heechul jerked his foot out of Changmin’s grasp, his expression furious.

“It—doesn’t—exist,” he said tensely, gritting his teeth. “Besides, if the book was real, I would have seen it by now. No ruler would ever give up that kind of power.”

“I heard there are pugilists searching for it,” said Changmin as Heechul got up from his bed, his ugly brown nightgown sweeping the red carpet as he walked to his desk by the windowsill.

“Then those pugilists are wasting their time. They are searching for nothing.”

Changmin cursed at himself. It was going to be hard to get anything out of Heechul. The Head Eunuch was a lot smarter than he looked, and if Changmin continued to press on, Heechul would grow more suspicious of Changmin’s motives.

“I was just curious,” said Changmin in a small voice.

“You should be more curious at what Hyori is doing,” Heechul barked back.

But Changmin had been curious about Hyori. Catching a glimpse of the Lady Regent was like catching smoke with bare hands. Changmin was curious to know why someone so powerful and so prevalent in the Palace could also be so quiet and reclusive.

“I’m trying my lord, but she’s quiet… and cautious. It’s hard to find anything about her. She doesn’t do anything out of the ordinary.”

In one swift movement, Heechul pressed a foot to Changmin’s chest and knocked him down on the bed. “Are you _really_ trying, Changmin?” Heechul cooed quietly, his sharp eyebrows furrowing together as he wriggled his velvety foot up to Changmin’s neck.

Heechul loomed closer, putting more pressure on Changmin’s neck. Changimn clutched his foot.

“You’ve managed to sneak past twenty of the Palace’s most gifted bodyguards, deceive one hundred of the Palace’s most wise eunuchs about your”—he gestured at Changmin’s crotch—“condition, and you can’t even play a little stealth game? That’s unlike you, Changmin.”

Changmin felt Heechul’s inner energy radiating through his body.

“Then teach me what I should do,” stammered Changmin.

Heechul tapped at Changmin’s temple with a dainty finger. “Just use your brain, and _think_.”

 

* * *

 

Changmin couldn’t contain his grin as he closed the Head Eunuch’s door behind him. Heechul was definitely hiding something. He was sure of it. Heechul’s defensive reaction and dismissive attitude at Changmin showed nothing but dread at the mention of the book. Changmin breathed out a sigh of realization. Could it be that Heechul was also searching for the book? Maybe that was the reason why he asked Changmin to observe Hyori? Maybe Hyori had the whereabouts of the book?

His mind raced with all the possibilities. Junsu was right. Changmin was definitely not alone in the search.

Changmin was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t know he was being watched. He walked right into someone, nearly knocking himself off his feet.  

Jaejoong was looking at Changmin with wry amusement, his vivid golden eyes reflecting the flaming torches that lit up the corridor.

“Oh, hello, Lord Hero,” said Changmin politely, bowing.  

“What were you doing in Lord Rella’s private chambers?” Jaejoong asked curtly, crossing his arms.

Changmin straightened up and bore down on Jaejoong, who was a head shorter. Jaejoong flinched, looking slightly intimidated by Changmin’s height.

“I don’t think I’m obligated to tell you,” said Changmin with a level voice. “Have a good night, my lord.” Changmin nodded his head respectfully and proceeded to walk to the end of the corridor.

Jaejoong cleared his throat. “It’s my obligation to look after my eunuchs so they don’t do anything of… ah, cajolery.”

Changmin stopped in his tracks. He whipped around to face the Head Chef. “What are you implying, my lord?”

“You know very well what I’m talking about.”

Jaejoong grinned, and Changmin wanted to mess up that annoying pretty face so bad.

He looked at Jaejoong innocently with wide eyes. “I _really_ don’t know what you’re talking about, my lord.”

Changmin’s false front of innocence seemed to have thrown Jaejoong off for a moment. He watched Changmin carefully, looking confused.

“It’s okay,” Jaejoong finally said. “You’ll know what I’m talking about once I find proof.”

Changmin dropped his act. He rolled his eyes and turned to leave.

“There are eyes on every wall, Max Changmin,” snarled Jaejoong. “Watch your back.”

Changmin smirked. “Likewise.”


	6. The Lordmaker

“Race you to the top.”

Changmin sprinted and jumped, feeling the air underneath his feet guiding him up to the tallest tower of the Kitchen Halls. He pushed himself off the stone wall and jumped even higher, flying so fast the wind whistled like a train beside his ears.

Within seconds Changmin reached the top of the inclined roof. His emerald green robes rustling in the pleasant breeze, he positioned himself on the tip of the ridge at ease. He had probably done this over a thousand times; flying was the easiest way to train his internal energy.

The Palace Kitchens were far from being the tallest towers of the Imperial Palace, but being located in the far east, Changmin was able to see most of castle grounds. Stoned turrets and towers lined with gold trimmings stretched endlessly across all directions. A gleaming river snaked around the Palace and poured out through the red citadel walls to the Capital, where a cluster of skyscrapers rose dramatically through the clouds and into the sky. Airships as small as ants floated gently between the high-rise buildings in the distance.

Changmin looked to his left. Lady Regent Hyori’s tower stood solemnly but superiorly in the far west, overlooking the rest of the castle grounds. 

Minho emerged panting beside him. He chuckled.

“Thirty seconds,” said Changmin, looking at his pocket watch. “You’ve improved by three milliseconds. Congrats.”

Minho crawled up beside him, his face soaked with sweat. “How can you get up here so fa—woah!”

Changmin grabbed Minho’s arm just as the other eunuch lost his grip on the roof tiles. 

“A lot of practice,” Changmin grunted as he hoisted Minho up. “You’ll be able to do it too.”

His chest heaving from exertion, Minho sat stiffly on the edge, gripping Changmin’s arm tightly as his eyes wander frantically below him. “Training energy is so boring,” Minho frowned. “I don’t think I have that kind of patience.”

“I didn’t think I had that kind of patience either,” Changmin mused, eyes not leaving Hyori’s tower.

He recalled, fleetingly, how annoyed he was at having to sit still and listen to Master drone on and on about the philosophy of energy training back when he was still at the Society; how often he had to meditate in the still of the night, waiting for inspiration to find him. But patience could be learned, and after months and months of failed espionage on Hyori and having absolutely no leads on the location of the Book of the White Tiger, patience naturally became Changmin’s audience.

“Wow, the scenery here is amazing,” Changmin breathed. “I bet it’ll look even better up Lady Hyori’s tower.”

“Probably,” agreed Minho. “She does live in the tallest tower of the Imperial Palace after all. You can probably get a better view of the Capital from there too.”

“I wish I can serve Regent Hyori. I bet it’s more interesting than serving in the Kitchens. Lord Hero’s such an asshole,” Changmin added darkly.

“Key told me she’s more difficult than Lord Hero.”

“Key?” said Changmin, tearing his eyes away from Hyori’s tower to look at Minho with raised eyebrows.

Finding his balance, Minho released his grip on Changmin’s arm and swung his legs like a pendulum. “Yeah, Key. The skinny kid with the blonde hair who’s under Lord Hero. He’s in charge of delivering meals to her.”

This could be important information. Changmin mentally scolded himself. He should have asked Minho this a long time ago.

“Interesting,” said Changmin calmly, trying to not look too excited. “And what did he say about her?”

Minho shrugged. “The usual. Very regal. Authoritative. Intimidating. Cold.”

“Well, she is a Regent. That’s not a surprise to hear. What about the other Lord Regents? Do you know anything about them?”

Minho frowned. “I don’t know much, actually. You would think they would tell you these things when you first enter the Palace, but they don’t. Oh, but I did hear that Regent Eric is pretty close to Regent Hyori.”

Changmin’s eyes widened. “Isn’t Regent Eric the younger brother of the late Queen Ella?”

“Yep. And I also heard that Regent Hyori and Eric aren’t really fond of Regent Hyesung and Junjin, so the court is kind of divided in their support.” Minho sighed. “His Majesty must be in a lot of stress.”

Changmin nodded slowly, remembering that U-Know, his eunuch friend in white, had mentioned to him in passing about the King having a complicated relationship with the Regency.

“Sounds like a mess,” agreed Changmin.

“Yeah. I mean, one is his beloved stepmother and other three are his close uncles. Makes it worse to know that His Majesty is only around our age.” Minho shivered at the thought.

“Have you met His Majesty before?” asked Changmin, twirling his coffee-stained pocket watch skillfully between his fingers.

“Nope. I hear he doesn’t really come out of his chambers unless it’s for court. Lady Regent Hyori is pretty controlling.”

“Controlling?” said Changmin curiously. “But he’s the King. I know he’s supported by Regency but I would assume he would have at least a little say in court by now.”

“He’s a young king,” Minho corrected, as if that was the answer to everything. “He can’t have full control of the court until he becomes of age.”

“So basically he’s just for show,” Changmin concluded. “A caged tiger that’s all bite but no teeth.”

“You make him sound like he’s a puppet—” Minho stopped halfway and gaped at Changmin, his large round eyes twinkling with realization. “I never thought about it that way before. Wow. So Regent Hyori is a lot scarier than I thought.” He shook his head. “Then I definitely don’t want to serve her.”

“Why? Think about it, Minho. What if the King becomes of age and regains his control? Do you think the Regents would willingly give back the power that they have held for so long to an immature ruler? When that day comes, I wouldn’t be surprised if they would usurp the throne. And it’s obvious who’s going to win. Serving Regent Hyori doesn’t sound so bad now, doesn’t it?”

Minho furrowed his eyebrows, deep in thought. Before he could respond, the boys were interrupted by the shrilly voice of a very angry Lord Leeteuk.

“MAX AND FLAMMA. GET YOUR CREAMY WHITE ASSES DOWN HERE NOW. DO YOU REALIZE HOW MUCH SHIT YOU HAVE LEFT TO DO?”

Changmin let out a great sigh, wishing that Palace servants earned overtime pay like the jobs in the city.

He gave Minho a mischievous grin. “Race you down.”

Minho groaned.

 

* * *

 

“Overcooked.”

Hero Jaejoong sprang to his feet and brushed the tea set off the side table. The aggravating sound of broken china echoed through the walls as it hit the marble floor. Jaejoong kicked the table at Changmin, and the sharp corner pierced Changmin's hip. Minho made a squeaking sound beside him.

Changmin clenched his fists. His patience with Jaejoong was almost running out. He kneeled down quietly and began picking up the broken pieces.

Jaejoong fell back on his plush white settee and massaged his temple. “Why… do you never fucking listen?”

Changmin shot him a deadly glare. _Fucking bitch._ Jaejoong’s narrow amber eyes met his and Changmin quickly looked back down, concentrating on not hurting his fingers as he picked up the broken glass. 

“How many times do I have to repeat myself for you to get it? Is your brain that small? ARE YOU FUCKING DEAF?”

Changmin grimaced at Jaejoong’s loud, shrieky voice.

“You’re the station chef for the tea kitchen, are you not? A teamaking chef can’t even brew tea! What a joke.”

The eunuchs standing behind Jaejoong covered their mouths and giggled. Changmin felt his ears turning red.

“With that fucking pea-size brain of yours and tasteless tongue, how did you even crawl your way to station chef?”

Leeteuk, Changmin’s superior, stepped in. “Lord Hero. Senior Max’s specialty is pastry. He —”

Jaejoong raised a hand, silencing him. “The Joryu Imperial Feast is in two weeks, Lord Leeteuk. You know the Kitchens are understaffed. We are all working overtime to make and serve the best dishes for His Majesty and His Royal Family. Teamaking is a basic set of skills that even my junior cooks can master. _How embarrassing._ ” 

It’s just fucking tea, thought Changmin as he stood up from his place, holding the tray of shattered china.

“I am going to have to reevaluate your progress, Max Changmin,” said Jaejoong in the sweetest voice he could fake. “It’s unfortunate. I’ve expected more from a eunuch who is deemed worthy enough to pleasure Lord Rella Heechul.”

His eunuch slaves guffawed stupidly. Fury poured into Changmin. He made his way toward Jaejoong, eager to throw a hard punch to mess up his bleached face, but Leeteuk and Minho held him back.

“Patience,” whispered Leeteuk.

Changmin’s knuckles cracked.

Jaejoong raised his eyebrows at Changmin, sneering as he twirled his jade ring on his finger.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Breathing hard through his nose, Changmin tried to compose himself. No—now was not the time to get physical.

Jaejoong chuckled. “Though I really shouldn’t be expecting a pleasure eunuch to know how to do much of anything else.”

Baekhyun, one of Jaejoong’s annoying pets, howled with laughter. Face boiling, Changmin grabbed another pot of tea from the coffee table and thrusted it in front of Baekhyun’s face, throwing him off-guard.

“Drink it. Tell me how it tastes like.”

Baekhyun glanced at Jaejoong nervously, who glared back. Baekhyun looked down, his face reddening.

Changmin smirked. Not so funny anymore. He turned to Chanyeol, who was standing on Jaejoong’s other side, and pushed the tea pot to him. “How about you? Try it.” Chanyeol looked at him in disbelief. 

“Go on, I didn’t poison it or anything. Lord Hero just had some—”

Jaejoong shot up and grabbed Changmin’s arm, stopping him from passing the pot down further.

“Is this a challenge to my authority?” he whispered threateningly, his cold eyes consumed with anger.

Changmin looked at Jaejoong collectedly, his expression firm. “No, my lord. But something as intricate as tea tasting should be done by more than one taster. I think having more objectivity would be beneficial to providing the best meals for His Majesty.”

Jaejoong was burning with ire. “You—”

The doors of the entrance flung wide open and Heechul trampled in. His eunuch Xiumin scrambled after him, almost tripping as he desperately tried to hold on to the end of Heechul’s excruciatingly bright orange nightgown.

“You boys are interrupting my beauty sleep!” squeaked the Head Eunuch, his thin hands waving frantically in the air, his eyebrows furrowing behind his large black sunglasses.

Jaejoong released Changmin’s arm immediately. “My Lord Rella,” he said, rushing to Heechul and offering him his hand. He led Heechul across the baronial room, his back bowed, and motioned Heechul to sit on his settee.

“What is going on here?” Heechul demanded.

Jaejoong looked at Changmin, grinning coldly with a hint of amusement. “Your favorite pet.”

Heechul turned his head to Changmin’s direction. “Maxi,” he said, his voice dangerously soft. “What did you do this time?”

The room filled with snickers upon hearing Changmin’s nickname.

“Your _Maxi_ doesn’t know how to follow directions, my lord,” said Jaejoong. “This is the third time he has failed to brew a proper kettle of royal tea in the past hour. Have you any idea how many tea leaves he has wasted?”

As if he had read Changmin’s mind, Heechul sighed. “It’s just tea. No need to make such a big fuss about it. We have plenty of professional tea brewers.”

Jaejoong looked appalled, his expression no longer amused. “Max Changmin is a station chef for the tea kitchen,” he rasped, his voice rising. “If its leader can’t even cook up a proper cup of tea, what would his subordinates think of him? Think of me? As Head Chef, I am responsible for the progress of my station chefs. Max’s lack of advancement makes me look incompetent!”

“It’s just flavored water,” Heechul repeated, looking more annoyed by the second. “I can’t believe you boys woke me up to something as trivial as this.”

“Trivial!” gasped Jaejoong, aghast.

“Please calm down, Lord Hero,” said Leeteuk, walking up to Jaejoong and putting a hand on his shoulder. “The feast is in two weeks. We have more important matters to deal with than quibbling over the ineptness of an amateur.”

“Exactly,” Heechul said unhelpfully.

Jaejoong’s face worked furiously, seemingly disgusted that Heechul didn’t even bother to think about punishing Changmin.

Shaking with anger, Jaejoong yelled so loud that Changmin jumped, almost shattering his fourth tea pot of the day. 

“MAX!”

Changmin immediately turned to him.

“There’s going to be a shipment of tea coming in to the Palace tonight. As I’m sure you know, Lord Marcus is getting old; his hands are… shaky and the old man probably can’t even see color anymore. I want you to help him double-check the invoices.”

Changmin gawked at him. “That’s ten thousand pounds of tea, my lord.”

“Problem?”

“Um, yeah!” cried Changmin. “That’s not my—”

Leeteuk held up a hand at him and shook his head. Changmin looked at him incredulously.

“Problem?” Jaejoong repeated more firmly.

“No,” muttered Changmin, his shoulders slouching. “Not at all.”

“Then everything’s settled,” said Heechul, clasping his hands together. “I’m going to go back to sleep. Don’t wake me up until dawn.”

 

* * *

 

“Here’s the last one,” grunted Changmin as he heaved a large wooden chest into the storage house. He dropped the chest on a large measuring scale and read the measurements. “It’s good.”

Lord Marcus pushed his round spectacles up his tall nose as he scribbled down with his eagle-feather quill. His eyes squinted in the flickering lamp light.

“All set!” he chirped happily, setting aside the quill and rolling up the scroll. Changmin carried the last chest of tea to the corner of the house and almost dropped it on the wooden floor. He sat on it and wiped his sweat with his sleeves, breathing heavily from exertion.

Leeteuk, who was sitting on the other side of the room brewing tea in a kettle, made a sound of acknowledgement and watched Changmin with a bemused expression.

“I thank you, my boy,” said Lord Marcus gratefully as he slowly made his way over to Changmin, his walking cane shivering along with his legs at each step. He patted Changmin on the back reassuringly as Changmin coughed, his throat gone dry. “Amicus and Adrian were off today. I don’t know how I would be able to do all of this without you!”

Changmin cleared his throat. “How inconvenient,” he mumbled under his breath.

“And thank you, Lord Leeteuk, for supervising.”

Leeteuk held up a cup of tea. “My pleasure, Lord Marcus.”

“And Max, dear. Can you do me a favor? I spilled some leaves in the operations room at the back—”

“Of course. I’ll clean it up for you,” said Changmin automatically.

“Oh, and the lights in the operations room has also been acting weird all night—”

Changmin looked behind him. The door to the operations room stood ajar. Electric lights zapped on and off. “Yes, I’ve noticed. I’ll take a look.”

“Thank you so much, Max. You are so kind!” cried Lord Marcus, rubbing Changmin’s cheeks. “I will definitely put in good words for you!”

“No, _you_ are kind, my lord. I’ve learned a lot from you tonight. Thank you.”

Lord Marcus giggled in response.

“It’s late,” said Leeteuk, his careful eyes shifting from Lord Marcus to Changmin.

“Yes,” said Changmin quickly. He grabbed Lord Marcus’ coat from the iron hook by the operations room and helped the elderly eunuch put it on. Leading Lord Marcus to the exit, Changmin called for his eunuch servants. “Please take Lord Marcus back to his bed chambers!”

Two child eunuchs with mousy brown hair who were standing outside the storage house came rushing to Lord Marcus’ side. 

“And,” whispered Changmin, bending down to the young eunuchs’ height. “When His Lord gets his pedicure tonight, make sure to dip his feet in Jasmine tea at approximately thirty-six degrees Celsius. It’s more therapeutic.”

The little eunuchs nodded enthusiastically as they took Lord Marcus’ arms. The old eunuch giggled and simpered.

“From whom did you learn that from, dear?”

“I serviced Lord Rella,” replied Changmin, flashing a bright smile at Lord Marcus. “Don’t tell anyone, it’s his little secret. Rest well, my lord.”

“Oh, I won’t. Thank you, my dear. Too-da-loo, Lord Leeteuk!”

“Lord Marcus,” Leeteuk nodded. “Walk back safely.”

Changmin closed the large wooden door. He gave out a tense sigh, his head throbbing from overexertion. He felt as if his body was about to collapse. If he didn’t have any martial arts background in him, he would have broken down by now. He fanned himself with his long sleeves.

“I see you’ve accustomed well to palace ways, Max,” Leeteuk observed, a bite of amusement in his voice. “You must be thirsty. Tea?” he offered.

Changmin scoffed. “You seriously think I’d still want to drink tea after what happened?”

Leeteuk took a sip of tea out of his silver-stained cup. The faulty lamp light in the operations room blurred Leeteuk’s face in and out of focus. “This is Ryu tea,” he said simply. “Not as complicated as that ridiculous Jo style.”

Changmin raised his eyebrows. Even the thought of tea was making him feel nauseous, but he hadn’t had a drop of water all night. Changmin coughed again. He was definitely falling sick.

“Fine,” he croaked. He thanked Leeteuk softly as he accepted his cup from him.

“That sweet-talking mouth of yours is handy,” said Leeteuk as he added two blocks of sugar into Changmin’s tea. “Lord Marcus has taken a great liking to you. No wonder Lord Rella favors you so much, _Maxi._ ”

Changmin choked into his cup. Leeteuk gave Changmin a knowing look.

While Heechul did have a hand on bringing Changmin into the Palace, he did nothing to help with Changmin’s promotions. But Leeteuk was not entirely wrong — even Changmin himself had noticed that he had developed a keenness for charmspeaking. Frankly, he had no other choice. He was desperate to complete his mission as soon as possible. Changmin’s stomach churned at the realization of what he had become—the very person Hero Jaejoong said he was all along. A pleasure eunuch.

“Lord Rella and I... we didn’t—”

“There is no need to explain,” said Leeteuk immediately. “We all have our lordmakers. It’s common, really.”

“Lordmakers?” asked Changmin.

“How else are we going to survive in the palace?” said Leeteuk, now daintily pouring cream in Changmin’s tea with a saucer too small for his hand to hold. “You really think young Lord Hero became Head Chef because he’s just that good at what he does?”

“Well, I’m sure he’s got some help.”

“Oh, he’s got plenty of help. Don’t get me wrong, Max. Young Hero is very talented and competent in his field, but he’s not very bright. And, well, also quite insecure.”

“Tell me about it," Changmin chuckled coldly. “That explains why he’s always picking on me.”

“It’s because he sees a lot of himself in you,” Leeteuk smiled. “He’s afraid of you.”

Minho had told him the same thing when Changmin first started working in the Kitchens. He could now see why.

“Who was his lordmaker?”

Leeteuk took a sip of his own tea and licked his lips. “Lord Regent Eric.”

Changmin nearly dropped his cup. 

“The Regent?” he asked in awe.

“Impressive, right? We all have our own lordmakers, but it is a social taboo we rather not dwell on. Lord Hero, however… he doesn’t even bother to hide the fact that he’s supported by Lord Regent Eric. There are even rumors that they may be tied by blood. Bastard brothers, perhaps.”

Everything seemed to be adding up. Changmin’s heart was pumping with excitement and nerves. He could sense that he was finally getting closer to finding the truth, to find why Heechul wanted him to spy on Hyori, to find if there was really a possibility that the Regents were connected to the location of the book.

“Do you think they’re related?” asked Changmin curiously.

Leeteuk looked up at Changmin from his cup, his smiling eyes misty with wonder. “It's possible.”

 

* * *

 

Half an hour later Changmin was left alone, staring blankly at the power control box at the back of the dusty operations room. Wires were coming out from places Changmin didn’t even know about. He didn’t know which switch was for which light. Above him, the electrically-powered lamp flickered furiously like it was having a seizure. It aggravated his headache even more and Changmin's coughing intensified.

He shouldn’t have promised Lord Marcus that he would fix this.

“OI!” a deep voice bellowed from somewhere behind him.

Changmin turned around. The door of the tea storage house creaked open and U-Know’s pretty face peeped in.

“MAX! I’ve been looking all over for you!” he cried, his tone cheerful.

“U-Know hyung?” said Changmin in surprise as he walked out to greet the other boy. “How did you know I was in the tea room?”

U-Know stepped into the storage house, his arms behind his back. “I overheard one of Lord Hero’s eunuchs talking about you.”

His robes were so white and clean and _angelic_ it illuminated the dark and gloomy storehouse. Changmin surreptitiously tried to straighten his own wrinkly, dirt-trotted robes.

“Of course they would,” said Changmin, rolling his eyes. “Nosy bitches.”

“I’m impressed,” said U-Know, flashing him pearly white teeth. “You can really put up a fight against Hero Jaejoong. I’ve never met a eunuch who has the guts to talk back to him like that before.”

Changmin snorted. “Everyone treats Hero Jaejoong like he’s some kind of rabid dog who can bite back at any moment, but he’s just a toothless puppy. I could have put up a even better fight.”

U-Know’s smile widened. “Perfect.” 

Without warning, U-Know threw something very long and solid from behind his back. Changmin caught it with ease, but was taken aback at the force of U-Know’s throw.

It was a rifle. 

Changmin raised an eyebrow. “A new toy you stole?”

U-Know shook his head in false exasperation. “Like I said, Max, it’s not stealing, it’s —”

“Borrowing,” Changmin finished his sentence for him. U-Know grinned teasingly.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to return it.”

Changmin examined the rifle. It was long and slender, carved out from mahogany wood. The barrel, however, looked like it was made out of steel. The royal seal was embedded on the handle.

“This is not as heavy as it looks,” said Changmin, balancing the rifle on his palm.

“A 360 acupressure bolt rifle,” said U-Know knowledgeably. “Instead of using bullets, it uses darts that can attack your—”

“Pressure points. I know what an acupressure gun is.”

U-Know hoisted his own rifle over his shoulder. “Huh,” he said, sounding mildly impressed.

Changmin looked up at him. “Huh what?”

“You’ve fired guns before?”

“Not really,” said Changmin hesitantly, half expecting what was coming.

U-Know’s expression turned serious. “Well, then now’s your chance.” 

He aimed his rifle swiftly at Changmin.

Changmin took a few steps back. “What the fuck?”

“Since you know what an acupressure gun is, you know it won’t hurt you,” said U-Know, his tone lighthearted. He then gave Changmin an impish look. “Unless you know how to avoid them of course.”

Changmin stared at him blankly. “Are you serious?”

U-Know immediately frowned. “Does it look like I’m joking?”

“I can’t tell sometimes.”

“I’m serious, Max. Come on. Play with me.”

“Right here?”

“Yeah!”

Changmin shook his head. “Hyung, this is the tea storage house. If we damage any of the stock —”

U-Know made an angry growl at the back of his throat. “What, are you afraid Hero Jaejoong’s going to go all up your ass? You just said he’s nothing but a toothless puppy. And besides, he’s not even here!”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to get in trouble —”

“Quit being a fucking pussy and duel me!”

Changmin gaped. He could genuinely feel the eunuch’s annoyance at his hesitance. U-Know would get competitive in their duels every now and then, but Changmin had never seen him this desperate for a fight before.

He backed up to the operations room and closed the door. “Fine,” he said, aiming his rifle at U-Know, his finger on the trigger. “Don’t regret this.”

U-Know smirked.

He moved as fast as a bullet. Before Changmin could fire his rifle, U-Know had already fired his, and Changmin dodged just in time before the dart from U-Know’s rifle could impale his forehead. The dart landed on the wall behind him

“Fast reflexes, Maxi,” U-Know smiled, licking his lips.

Changmin aimed at U-Know’s legs, but the well-trained eunuch avoided it skillfully with a side somersault. U-Know jumped effortlessly on top of a stack of chests on Changmin’s left. He shot at Changmin again, but Changmin managed to block the dart with the base of his rifle.

“Smart,” U-Know commented raptly. 

Twirling his rifle in brandish display, U-Know quickly fired at Changmin. Changmin slid down and glided to his right, hiding behind another stack of chests. U-Know mustered his energy and accelerated toward Changmin, pointing his rifle at Changmin and fired.

Changmin tumbled to the side, narrowly missing U-Know’s shot. Changmin knocked down the stack of chests where U-Know landed, but the eunuch in white was one step ahead, jumping to another pile before Changmin could pull him to the ground.

U-Know lunged at Changmin again. Changmin used his energy to propel himself backwards. He aimed his rifle at U-Know’s right arm and fired, but U-Know blocked Changmin’s shot with the hilt of his rifle. U-Know raised his free hand and manipulated the energy around him. A shield of energy forced Changmin to the stone wall.

Changmin was starting to get a little pissed. After all the months of hard training, he was still unable to command his internal energy as well as U-Know, an ineffectual eunuch. Changmin began to attack more offensively, firing multiple energy shields at U-Know with his free hand. U-Know managed to dodge them all, but with obvious difficulty, and reached to the other corner of the room, hanging off a steam pipe in the ceiling, breathing heavily.

U-Know jumped off and Changmin knocked him to the side with the tip of his rifle. U-Know rolled to the side, and tried to compose himself before aiming at Changmin again. But Changmin was much quicker this time, and swept U-Know off his feet with his leg.

“WOAH!” 

Losing his balance, U-Know dropped his rifle and made a grab at Changmin’s arm, pulling Changmin down with him. They both crash-landed on the ground, with U-Know lying on top of him.

They were nose to nose, chest to chest, crotch to crotch. Changmin was sure U-Know could feel his heart beat…

And dick.

“You’re a lot better than I thought, Changminnie!” U-Know beamed. His breath smelled like fresh cinnamon.

Changmin pushed his legs together, hoping that U-Know wouldn’t be able to feel his growing length. What an inopportune time to get an erection. He couldn’t even fathom what the consequences would be if U-Know found out that he wasn’t castrated. His heart was beating so hard it felt like it was trying to tear out of his chest.

“Your energy is well-trained!” U-Know cried.

Changmin smiled nervously and tried to push U-Know off him. “I’ve had some practice over the years.”

U-Know nodded and smiled happily. He relaxed on top of Changmin, not seeming to be getting the message that Changmin wanted him off.

And then, it left almost as soon as Changmin spotted it.

A shadow was looming behind the unlatched door of the storage house. Changmin pushed U-Know off him and ran to the entrance, swinging the door open.

“What’s wrong?” asked U-Know.

Changmin’s breathing quickened. The night was uncharacteristically still.

“Someone was watching us.”

 

* * *

 

Changmin didn’t really have a good night’s sleep. It was not as if his meetings with U-Know were ever done in secret, but just the idea that someone knew they were meeting up was unsettling him. 

But U-Know wasn’t just an ordinary palace eunuch. He served the royal family and was a servant to the King. He was ranked, educated, and skilled in martial arts. Surely, an asset like him would be valued in court. What if there was a rule that common kitchen eunuchs weren’t supposed to mingle with them?

Jaejoong was not in sight when Changmin arrived in the Kitchens the next morning. If a rule as such indeed existed, Jaejoong would definitely be the first one to find out about Changmin and U-Know’s meetings. An uneasy feeling settled over him.

As Changmin reached his station, Jaejoong marched dramatically into the Kitchen Halls, carrying a face of determined cockiness. His two eunuch slaves stood stiffly beside him, holding the ends of his royal purple robes.

“Ahem,” Jaejoong coughed, his voice annoyingly breathy, high-pitched, but commanding. “Excuse me, everyone. May I please have your attention?”

The Kitchen Halls quieted almost immediately.

“Lord Regent Eric has arrived.”

Everyone let out silent gasps. Changmin’s heart nearly stopped.

A tall, muscular man walked into the hall with an air of unquestioned authority. A long black cloak with a hood was thrown back over his tight-fitting artillery vest. His arms were lined with hard, golden armor. A badge embedded with the royal seal shined brilliantly on his belt. He was breathtakingly handsome, but his sharp blue eyes bore down with coldness. A thick scar ran across his left eye.

The kitchen eunuchs bowed. Eric nodded his head politely in return.

The Lord Regent spoke. His voice was foreboding. “It appears that we may have some thieves running loose in the Imperial Palace.”

Jaejoong’s eyes flicker toward Changmin.

“Last night, some weapons from the court’s secret vault were stolen,” said Eric. “These prototypes are highly valuable and extremely dangerous. Unfortunately, due to provisions of protocol I cannot share images of these weapons to you, but they can be identified by the royal seal embedded on the handle.”

A murmur of concern broke out through the hall.

“For the safety of our abode, we must find the missing prototypes,” said Eric loudly, his great blue eyes sweeping over the eunuchs in the hall. “And we also must find the thief. To steal from the Imperial Vault is of the most heinous crime. It is treason.”

“Yes, your Eminence,” the eunuchs chanted.

Changmin stared at Eric, fear pulsating through his veins.

“U-Know,” he whispered.


	7. The Imperial Thief

The punishment for treason was death.

Changmin’s insides plummeted. His throat went dry. He was sick to his stomach. 

U-Know was the thief. 

And Changmin. Changmin was seen with him.

“Lord Hero here has my warrant in this investigation,” announced Lord Eric, waving a strong hand at the Head Chef. “If you find anything of particular interest, please report to him immediately.”

“Yes, your Eminence,” the kitchen eunuchs chimed again.

Jaejoong lifted his head. He met Changmin’s gaze, and smirked.

Changmin’s lungs gave away. He felt like he was suffocating, his breathing gone desperately rapid. 

Jaejoong. It was Jaejoong who saw him with U-Know.

Changmin’s knees buckled.

Eric ended the briefing with a curt nod. He then swiftly left the kitchen halls, his black cloak swishing away like a shifting ghost. Jaejoong and his minions quickly tailed after him.

The hall broke into a commotion at once.

“Thieves! In the Imperial Palace?”

“Who in their sane minds would even think about stealing from the Imperial Vault?”

“How did they even get in?”

“What’s the Imperial Vault?” asked Minho.

“The Imperial Vault is one of the most heavily guarded places in the Palace,” replied Leeteuk, looking extremely grave. “Even its exact location is a matter of speculation. Breaking into such high-level security is not an easy task. This thief is no regular thief.”

“Could there even be such a thief?” a voice behind Changmin scoffed.

“Lord Yesung, your tone implies mendacity in Lord Eric’s claims,” said Leeteuk, turning to the other tea station sous chef.

“I do have my doubts, Lord Leeteuk. Of all my years of serving in the Palace, I have never heard of such a story! Aside from the royal family, the lord regents, and a few ordained keepers, no one else should have the knowledge of the Imperial Vault’s location!”

“It’s all very strange,” started the elderly Lord Jungwook of the evening kitchens, joining in on the conversation, “Lord Eric is making it very obvious that someone has breached the vault’s security measures. This is very elementary of him, don’t you think? Shouldn’t this be kept confidential?”

“Exactly!” 

Yesung then took a brief look around him before bending closer to Leeteuk and Jungwook’s ear shot. “This has to be an inside job,” he muttered.

“If this is true, then why would Lord Eric stage such an act?” asked Leeteuk doubtfully. “And for what reason?”

“The Joryu Imperial Feast is coming soon, isn’t it?” said Jungwook. “In such a political forum, someone has to stand out and impress the Lordmarkers.”

That silenced Leeteuk for a brief moment, but then he suggested, “Could it be possible that Hero Jaejoong was the one who staged this?”

“Bah!” Yesung cried, his voice gone high and squeaky. “Do not drop names, my lord! Anyone could have done this.”

“I would actually be surprised if it really was Hero Jaejoong,” snorted Jungwook. “He’s not a very clever eunuch. And besides, do you really think Hero Jaejoong knows about the vault? He’s a child.”

“If there’s no thief,” interrupted Minho in a scared voice, color draining from his face as realization dawned on him, “and this is all just an act, then that means someone’s going to be their scapegoat… right?”

The lord eunuchs exchanged concerned looks. 

“Who will be made the scapegoat?”

Leeteuk patted Minho reassuringly on the shoulder. “My boy, if you do what you are told, you’ll be safe. No harm will come to you.”

Changmin’s stomach twanged with fear. 

If what the lords said were true, and the heist was really just an act concocted by desperate politicians, then Changmin became the sacrifice. He was fondled with like a chess piece, used like a wrench on a loose pipe. It all made sense to him now. 

U-Know had planned this all along. U-Know had planned Changmin to be his scapegoat.

A dull pain hit Changmin straight in the lungs. His throat convulsed and he started to cough violently, so intensely that he felt like he was disgorging his stomach. 

His knees went weak and he fell back. Minho caught him just before he hit the kitchen floor.

“Hyung!” gasped Minho. 

“Max!” cried Leeteuk urgently. “Are you well?”

“Yes… yes, I’m fine,” coughed Changmin. He tried to stand up straight, but felt too weak and fell back into Minho’s arms. Both his head and lungs were suddenly bursting with pressure. 

Changmin needed to leave the Palace. He must find an escape.

Leeteuk felt Changmin’s neck. “No, you’re not. You’re burning hot. You’re dismissed for the morning. Flamma, take Max back to the dormitories and call the physician.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Minho, hoisting Changmin up, though with difficulty.

“Rest well, Max.”

Changmin’s throat was drying up. “Thank you, my lord.”

Minho steered him out of the kitchen halls and to their eunuch dormitories on the other side of the east wing. The younger eunuch gently guided Changmin to sit on his wooden four-poster bed, which laid at the very end of the chamber.

“I’ll call the physician,” said Minho as he drew the bed’s sheer curtains around Changmin, a gesture that indicated Changmin was in bed and unwell.

Minho went to the end of Changmin’s bed and picked up the black candlestick phone sitting on a small table stand. But before Minho could dial the physician’s number, Changmin pushed himself off the bed and laid a hand on Minho’s, stopping him.

“No need to call. I’m fine, Minho.”

“Hyung, you look very pale—”

“I’m fine!” said Changmin, louder than intended, causing Minho to jump.

Impatiently, Changmin dragged himself back over to his bed and crawled under it, pulling out his old, battered knapsack. 

“What are you doing?” said Minho, rushing to him.

“I have t-to get out of h-h-here,” answered Changmin in between coughs, stuffing his clothes hastily into the luggage.

“Get out? But—”

“I have to leave. I have to leave this place.”

“Leave? You can’t just leave!”

“No, Minho. You don’t understand. I have to leave. I have to get out of here as soon as possible!”

Minho looked shell-shocked as the puzzle pieced together in his head.

“Are… are you the thie—”

In a dramatic bang, Jaejoong kicked open the dormitory doors and came marching into the room, footsteps sturdy. A team of tall, masked brocade-clad Imperial Guards followed closely behind him. Jaejoong’s amber eyes immediately fixed onto Changmin, and his lips rolled into a smirk.

“Search,” he said.

The guards pushed Changmin and Minho aside and proceeded to tear Changmin’s bed apart. 

“Hey! STOP!” shouted Changmin, as he tried to pull the guards away. “You can’t just—hey!”

Two large arms from behind swept Changmin off his feet and dragged him away from his bed. Minho was backed to a corner. He clasped his hands over his mouth, a mixture of shock and fear overcoming his face.

Jaejoong pulled out a mahogany stool from under Changmin’s bedside table and sat on it, casually crossing his legs. He carried an expression of enormous pleasure as he watched the guards shred through Changmin’s sheets and curtains in their search.

With much strength, Changmin wrestled himself away from his captors and made his way toward Jaejoong, his insides writhing with rage.

“What gives you the right to—”

Jaejoong stood up swiftly and pulled out a scroll, stopping Changmin in his tracks. He unrolled it in front of Changmin’s face.

“The warrant,” clicked Jaejoong, in his falsely sweet voice. “His Eminence, Lord Regent Eric has given me the reign to search for the missing weapons. I have full discretion and control. I’m just doing my job, Senior Max.”

“I didn’t steal those weapons,” growled Changmin, seething with anger.

Jaejoong smirked. “We’ll find out. Search every nook and cranny,” he yelled at the guards, his purple robes sweeping the floor as he paced up and down the chamber. “Turn this room upside down!”

“Yes, my lord!”

Changmin watched in terror as the guards ripped through his sleeping quarters, leaving everything torn and nothing intact. They even wrenched open the loose floorboards beside his bed. Changmin felt his blood pressure spike up, the heat of his core rising. His knuckles cracked.

Then, a guard reached under Changmin’s bed and pulled out his acupressure gun. 

Changmin’s heart shot upward into his throat. He surreptitiously grasped at his chest, where the Master’s note to Park Jinyoung was tucked in the inside pocket of his robes. Changmin let out a shallow breath of relief. At least this was safe.

“My lord,” said the guard, presenting the gun to Jaejoong. 

Jaejoong looked up at Changmin sweetly, but his amber eyes bore no grace.

“It’s an acupressure gun,” said the guard. “But there’s no royal seal.”

Jaejoong lifted an eyebrow, a disdainful smile on his lips. He grabbed the gun out of the guard’s hands and dangled it in front of Changmin’s face with his dainty pale fingers.

“Why do you have an acupressure gun under your bed, Max Changmin? Since when do kitchen eunuchs have the need to carry weapons?”

Changmin gave Jaejoong the most menacing glare he could muster.

“That’s why I’m not carrying it.”

The Head Chef scowled at Changmin’s sharp response. His lips formed a thin line.

“Hold him down.”

Metal hands grabbed Changmin firmly from behind and slammed him onto the floor.

“Hey!”

“Search him.”

The guards stripped Changmin from his robes. “You can’t—” Changmin started shouting, but the guards shut him off with a dizzying slap in the face. 

They tethered him with chains. A metal collar wrapped around his neck, choking him. A muzzle clamped over his face, silencing him. The guards ripped his robes apart, pulling out old money bills, pocket watches, and cigar lighters that Changmin would find and keep whenever he was tasked to do janitorial jobs around the kitchens. He yelped in pain as one of the guards held onto his neck to pull out his waistband with force, bruising him.

“Stop, you’re hurting him!” Minho shouted as he tried to pry the guards away from Changmin, but another guard pushed him away.

The guards began to claw their way through Changmin’s undergarments, tearing his undershirt off. Changmin’s heart hammered painfully. He grabbed onto his pants, desperate to hold them up. They must not know that he was not castrated.

Then, Jaejoong lifted a hand, motioning the guards to stop.

The Master’s note from the inner chest pocket of Changmin’s robes had fluttered to the floor. Jaejoong pointed at the envelope and gestured a guard to pick it up for him.

Fear impaled into Changmin like needles. His eyes widened in horror.

Jaejoong took note of his reaction.

“Oh? What do we have here?” he leered as he opened the envelope.

All air seemed to vanish from Changmin’s lungs. He didn’t know what could be worse… to be discovered that he was a non-castrated eunuch or to be discovered that he actually belonged to a rebel group? Both were acts of treason. Both were reason enough to sentence Changmin to death.

Jaejoong frowned at the note.

“What is found?” he asked sharply. “And retreat from where?”

…Found?

Changmin stared at him, confused. He tried to speak, but the muzzle was muffling him.

Jaejoong motioned the guard to release the gag, and Changmin let out a deep breath as soon as his lungs were set free.

“Find what?” Changmin managed after inhaling as much air as he could.

“I’m asking you, Max Changmin.”

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

 _“The note,_ Max Changmin. It said something’s found. What did you find? Is it the weapon?”

Changmin gaped at him. Jaejoong wasn’t making any sense to him at all. 

“What—”

“How come I wasn’t invited to the party?” interrupted a high voice.

Rella Heechul strutted into the dormitories, his bright pink robes sweeping dust off his tracks. His eunuch servant, Xiumin, coughed and spluttered from the dust clouds.

“Oh,” the Head Eunuch frowned, covering his nose with his long sleeves. “Oh, dear Hero, please don’t tell me you made a mess. You know how much I hate untidy rooms.”

“Lord Rella!” cried Changmin, the sharp chains digging into his bare skin. “Help!”

“Maxi?” said Heechul, eyebrows rising behind his round sunglasses. “What are you doing with my Maxi? Release him!”

Confounded, the guards released Changmin from his chains. He immediately darted to the blind eunuch’s side, Minho staggering behind him.

“What’s going on?” he asked, patting Changmin’s head and stroking his face. “Your hair is a mess! And you’re bleeding!”

Jaejoong bowed respectfully, unperturbed.

“My dear Lord Rella. I was expecting you.”

Jaejoong’s derisive tone did not seem to have an effect on Heechul, who was too busy brushing dust off of Changmin's hair.

Jaejoong continued, looking miffed. “I was ordered by His Eminence, Lord Regent Eric, to search for a missing prototype.”

“Oh, yes,” said Heechul. “I’ve heard about that. Some kind of dangerous, magical weapon that was stolen from the Imperial Vault. That Lord Eric. Such a drama queen. But what does that got to do with my Maxi?”

“Lord Rella, I am highly suspicious of Max Changmin. I am here to investigate.”

“You think my Maxi stole the weapons?”

“I’m innocent, my lord!” cried Changmin, grabbing Heechul’s arm.

The blind eunuch gently patted Changmin’s hand. “Shh, don’t worry, Maxi, I’ll sort things out.”

Jaejoong rolled his eyes.

“So? Did you find anything?”

Jaejoong’s expression faltered. “No. However…” he held out the note, a smile forming in his pale face. “We did find something of interest, my lord.”

Heechul perked up. 

“A note,” said Jaejoong, his amber eyes glancing at Changmin. “Encased in an envelope, but addressed to no one.”

Changmin’s heart was beating violently against his chest.

“Max Changmin kept it very securely inside his robes. I think it is his form of communication with his accomplice.”

“Accomplice?”

Heechul showed the note to Xiumin so the young eunuch could read it to him. Xiumin whispered a few words into Heechul’s ears, and Heechul’s expression immediately turned wooden.

But seconds later, the Head Eunuch resumed smiling, and said, “Ah, this. I’m sorry, my dear Hero. I’m afraid this is all a very unfortunate misunderstanding. I was the one who gave this note to Max Changmin.”

Changmin gaped at him.

He was not expecting this answer at all, and Jaejoong appeared to have felt the same way.

“What?” Jaejoong asked, his trimmed eyebrows twitching.

“Yes,” responded Heechul with alacrity. “I asked Max to run an errand for me.”

Changmin was confused.

A million questions started to swirl into Changmin’s head. Did Heechul know who the note was addressed to? Why did he claim it as his own? Was Heechul also in a race to search for the Book of the White Tiger? And if all of that was true… and Changmin’s mission with Lady Regent Hyori… was that why Heechul told him to spy on her? Because she had some connection to the book?

“What errand?” asked Jaejoong loudly, snapping Changmin out of his thoughts. “What does this note mean?”

That question did not sit well with Heechul at all. 

The Head Eunuch came face to face with Jaejoong and took off his metal-rimmed sunglasses, revealing misty white irises. The room went cold.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” he said in a threatening voice, barely audible than a whisper.

Jaejoong lowered his head, unable to look at Lord Rella in the eye. Though Heechul was slightly shorter than Jaejoong, the Head Eunuch’s authoritative presence was colossal.

“Of course it isn’t, Lord Rella,” said Jaejoong, his voice shaking slightly. He then pulled himself back together and stood taller. “But these stolen weapons are not to be underestimated. They are powerful and destructive. Lord Regent Eric has granted me full authority to search for them, and I must be thorough in my investigation. I cannot overlook any piece of possible evidence, even if it means I have to be insolent.”

“Are you implying, Lord Hero, that I am also a suspect?”

“That…” Jaejoong stuttered, “that’s not what I meant, my lord.”

“We’ll see about that, young Hero,” said Heechul, putting his sunglasses back on.

He then whipped around to face Changmin and Minho, smiling innocently, like his scuffle with Jaejoong never happened. He raised his arms in the air like a magician.

“Alrighty then! Now that’s settled—”

“No,” interrupted Jaejoong, persistent.

Though they were hidden behind sunglasses, Changmin was sure Heechul rolled his eyes.

“Lord Rella. Max Changmin _is_ the thief. He was using those weapons on another eunuch servant last night. I saw it with my own eyes!”

“If that was the case, Hero, how come you did not confront them then?”

“Because I was alone! I was also not aware of its severity until His Eminence asked me to investigate, and it was then when I realized what I saw. It has to be him. There is no one else!”

Heechul took in Jaejoong’s words carefully. He turned to Changmin with a frown.

“Maxi…”

“My lord!” cried Changmin, dropping to his knees by Heechul’s feet. “I’m innocent!”

“Innocent? But Lord Hero here said he saw you with another eunuch servant last night,” said Heechul, speaking to Changmin like he was talking to a three-year-old. “With the stolen weapons.”

“I-i-it is true,” quaked Changmin. “I had them… b-b-ut I didn’t steal them! I’m innocent! It has to be him, Lord Rella! It’s him!”

“Him?”

“T-t-the other eunuch. He was the one who stole the weapons!”

“Who is this other eunuch that Hero is talking about, Max?”

Changmin did not answer at once. Although Changmin and U-Know met frequently, Changmin actually had no idea who he was. U-Know had told him nothing else about his background, apart from the fact that he served the King. But that could have been just a lie.

His heart thumped madly. So was their meetings meant to be a trap all along? How could Changmin be so stupid and fall for it?

“I… I don’t know who he is.”

“Rubbish!” spat Jaejoong.

“I swear to the gods, my lords! He… he said his courtesy name was U-Know and that he served the King! Occasionally he would bring these weapons to me and ask me to duel him with them, but if… if I knew they were forbidden weapons, I would have never agreed!”

“Impossible!” cried Jaejoong. “Why would a kingsman trifle with a kitchen servant?”

“But it’s true!”

“Seize him!”

“No—Lord Rella!”

The guards made their way to Changmin, but Heechul held out a hand, forcing them to a halt.

“Lord Hero, how embarrassing for the Lord Regent if he sentenced the wrong man.”

“You believe his story?” Jaejoong asked Heechul, aghast. 

“You did say you saw an accomplice, didn’t you?”

Jaejoong’s amber eyes went wild.

“I see no reason to doubt Max Changmin’s story,” said Heechul quietly, but with force. “Give him a second chance. Have him find this U-Know to prove his innocence. And if what Max Changmin said is indeed true, not only will Lord Eric be able to ascertain the real culprit and protect the court, you will also render a merit from His Eminence. That’s knocking out two birds with one stone.”

“Yes!” Changmin agreed, wheeling around on his knees to face Jaejoong. “I promise! I’ll find him!”

Jaejoong’s eyes lingered on Changmin for a moment. He was considering Heechul’s suggestion. There was no doubt he cared more about appeasing Lord Eric than finding some ridiculous forbidden weapon.

“Fine,” he finally said. He bent down to Changmin’s level and held him by the neck, painfully gripping his bruises. Changmin was sweating profusely.

“I’ll give you one day,” he breathed in Changmin’s ear. “Find him.”

Changmin nodded eagerly.

Jaejoong clicked his fingers at a guard, who then strapped a wired metal bracelet on Changmin’s wrist.

“A location positioning device,” drawled Jaejoong. “I’ll be watching.”

Changmin looked at the blinking bracelet. It was heavy and cold. It eerily reminded Changmin of the wrist chains he had to endure from his former masters.

“Very well!” said Heechul, clapping his hands together with glee. “Now, scurry along! Unless you want to help Maxi clean up his room, then you are all welcomed to stay.”

Jaejoong and his guards bowed out of the dormitory.

Heechul’s face immediately hardened once they were left alone.

“Xiumin, Flamma, I would like to have a private conversation with Max.”

“Yes, my lord,” the young eunuchs said in unison. Minho gave Changmin a concerned look before exiting with Xiumin.

When Heechul made sure Xiumin and Minho had closed the door behind them, Heechul promptly turned to Changmin. He held up the Master’s note. Changmin’s heart skipped. He had totally forgotten about it.

“How did you get this?” asked Heechul in a low voice.

Changmin looked down, still on his knees.

“I… don’t understand the question, my lord.”

Heechul was uncharacteristically still.

“What does this note say?”

“My lord. I was never taught how to read. I don’t know what it says.”

Heechul unfolded the note and held it in front of Changmin’s face. Changmin looked at it. It was a very simple note, with only a few characters written in crisp calligraphy.

“It says two words. Found, retreat.”

Changmin’s eyes infinitesimally widen with shock.

That was not what Junsu told him.

Junsu told him that the Book of the Whiter Tiger was still in the Palace. He told Changmin that he needed to stay undercover, so he could continue the search and complete Park Jinyoung’s mission.

But if the Master’s note to Park Jinyoung was to tell him that the book was found, then…

Junsu had lied to him.

Fuck. _FUCK._

“F-found, retreat,” Changmin repeated, trying to contain his anger.

“Yes. Does this mean anything to you?”

“No… no, my lord. Not at all. I don’t know how that letter fell into my possession. It’s not mine.”

Heechul’s face was indiscernible. He pocketed the note into his robes.

“You do understand why you’re still here, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” said Heechul. His icy fingers caressed Changmin’s scarred cheek. “Now get back to work, eunuch.”

 

* * *

 

Changmin was outsmarted.

How could he be so naïve? How could he be so stupid to let Junsu get the better of him? That thick-headed, obtuse fool? Changmin should have remained dubious with Junsu’s words. He should have known that Junsu wouldn’t help him escape. That insecure bitch would do anything to impede Changmin’s progress, would do anything to discredit Changmin in front of his father.

This was Changmin’s fatal flaw. In times of desperation, he would lose all sense of judgement and act with only his emotions.

But what crushed Changmin the most was not Junsu, but U-Know.

In an atmosphere where conspiracy and reality collided, Changmin should have been more careful in playing his cards. Life in the Imperial Palace was all about personal gain and self-preservation. Survival did not dwell with the soft-hearted, and U-Know was no exception. This, he should have known.

The eunuch in white moved like a ghost. He was mysterious. He always came to find Changmin. It was never the other way around. Changmin knew nothing else about the eunuch apart from the fact that he _could possibly_ be a kingsman, and that he was very well-trained in the martial arts. For all Changmin knew, the eunuch could have been bullshitting.

And this was where Changmin knew he had lost the game. 

He had trusted him.

Changmin initially indulged in the eunuch’s strange nightly duel cravings because he assumed that by befriending U-Know, the eunuch would eventually be more honest with him and tell him more about the Regency. Changmin would have been able to learn more about Lady Regent Hyori and possibly, find more information about the Book of the White Tiger.

But now all those plans were thrown out the window. Not only was the book no longer in the Imperial Palace, U-Know also managed to use him as a scapegoat for some political gain.

Changmin didn’t understand. Granted, he may have initially used U-Know, but he did truly consider the eunuch to be a friend, a pal he could converse with naturally, free from all formalities and rules. Changmin had lived with rules for far too long, and it was U-Know who gave him these brief moments of freedom.

But it was also U-Know who betrayed his trust.

Changmin should hate him. Changmin wanted to hate him. Hate him for outwitting him, hate him for betraying him, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything more but sadness. Utter sadness and disappointment.

He needed to know why. He needed to find U-Know.

And turn him to Jaejoong.

Changmin spent the rest of the day searching for U-Know. As a kitchen servant, Changmin never had the opportunity to leave the vicinities of the east wing unless he was serving meals to the higher lords, but in his search, Changmin came to realize how large the Imperial Palace actually was, how many courtyards, chambers and grand halls that Changmin never explored before. The main castle itself was like a confusing three-dimensional maze. Hundreds of palace guards, eunuchs, and maid servants would be patrolling around the halls at all times, and that made Changmin wonder how U-Know managed to bypass all of them to reach him.

Exhausted and without proper rest, Changmin’s cough worsened. He could physically feel his internal energy draining from him, weakening him. His condition did not fare better when he realized that no one actually knew who U-Know was, or had even heard of his name. Not even the managers of the eunuch archives room could find U-Know’s records. The hairs on the back of Changmin’s neck prickled with fear. This eunuch was a lot more mysterious than he thought.

It was nearly dusk, and Changmin still had no luck in finding U-Know. Maybe this was the gods’ signs of telling Changmin that it was time for him to leave. Leave everything behind and never come back. Find haven back at the Gods of the East Society. After all, it was Junsu who had tricked him to stay in the Palace. There was no point for Changmin to stay here anymore.

But this just led Changmin to ask another question—why wasn’t the Master trying to contact him? Junsu did lie to him about the note, yes, but it’s been months since the Society last contacted Changmin. The Master should have known by now that Park Jinyoung was dead, and in theory, he would have contacted Changmin about what he should be doing next. Did the Master give up on him? Did the Master think that he had betrayed him? Or did the Master think that Changmin, too, died in the fire? What did Junsu say to him?

His musings led him to walk straight into the front door of the deserted common room, the same lounge where Changmin would rendezvous with U-Know to have some quick duels.

Changmin coughed and took a deep breath. He checked his pocket watch and realized that it was already half past midnight. This was the time when he would usually be inside the common room, waiting for U-Know to arrive and then brainstorm about the kind of wicked instruments U-Know would bring to him to play with.

Could U-Know be inside now?

No. If making Changmin his scapegoat was his plan all along, then U-Know should be long gone.

He fingered his location device, which was locked securely onto his wrist. Jaejoong was watching his every move. Despite feeling resentment, Changmin still cared about his eunuch friend. Though he promised Jaejoong to capture U-Know, a part of him actually hoped that the eunuch had escaped the Palace.

But Changmin was wrong. U-Know was inside the common room, sitting boastfully on the wooden settee in the far end of the hall. He was in the same white attire, his long robes spotless and pressed as usual.

Changmin gawked at him.

“You’re actually here,” he gasped.

“Late, Max Changmin,” said U-Know smugly, playing with a ball of energy he conjured with his hand. “Can’t believe I actually beat you this time.”

U-Know’s complacent attitude made Changmin turn red with fury. He could feel his lost energy coming back to him, and then well up inside him like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

His lungs gave away and he broke into a coughing fit.

“Hey, are you alright?” asked U-Know, frowning. He flew out of his settee with ease and walked toward Changmin, his footsteps light.

Changmin covered his mouth with the ends of his sleeves and tried to stop the coughs. He pointed a finger at U-Know. “Do you not know what’s going on right now?”

“What’s going on?”

“Why did you do it?”

“Did what?”

“Don’t toy with me, U-Know. I may be a mere kitchen servant but I am not simple-minded.”

“I never said—”

“I will not stoop that low to have you use me as your tool!”

“Tool?”

“Why did you do it?”

“Do _what?_ ”

“Do—” Changmin paused. He stared at U-Know.

“What?” U-Know asked again, looking thoroughly confused.

Changmin narrowed his eyes at him. U-Know looked genuinely clueless. He was being truthful.

“You really don’t know?”

U-Know blinked at him, confused.

So the heist wasn’t a political game. U-Know really had no idea what was going on and Changmin wasn’t being used. But why was U-Know stealing from the Imperial Vault?

A metallic shine coming from under the settee caught the corner of his eye. Changmin darted across the room and reached under it, pulling out two 360 acupressure bolt rifles, all embedded with the royal seal on the handle.

“These guns. They’re from the Imperial Vault.”

“Hey,” said U-Know, smiling. “You’re not that dumb after all. I’m impressed. Other eunuchs just think they’re toys.”

“The Imperial Vault is one of the most secretive and heavily guarded places in the Imperial Palace. How the hell did you get in?”

“You’re interested? But I’m not telling you my game secret! I haven’t won you fair and square yet!”

“THIS ISN’T A FUCKING GAME!” Changmin snapped, tossing the rifles to the floor.

U-Know stared at Changmin with his mouth hanging half-open, stunned.

“This is the Imperial Vault! Some kind of secret forbidden section in the palace that we’re not supposed to cross! What the hell were you thinking?”

“I-I was thinking that if I could manage to steal from the vault, I could prove to others that I’m a worthy fighter.”

Changmin was incredulous. U-Know was wrecking havoc in the palace just because he could.

“This really is a game to you, isn’t it?”

U-Know’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. “What’s life without a little play?”

“Not my life! Look. I’m a mild guy, okay? I’m not adventurous, I don’t seek thrill. You dragged me into a fucking ditch!”

U-Know’s smile faltered. “What happened?”

“Do you know Lord Regent Eric mobilized the entire fucking palace to look for you? And not just that, but Hero Jaejoong saw us last night. He’s been on my ass all fucking day. Have you any idea what the punishment is if they caught you? Stealing from the vault is treason. That’s the guillotine!”

U-Know opened his mouth, and then closed it, seeming to be at a loss for what to say. His eyes widen when he saw the bruises covering Changmin’s neck and cheeks. 

“Did he hurt you?” he started, reaching a hand to Changmin’s face.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Changmin bit back, swatting his hand away.

Dejected, U-Know’s hand fell to his side. 

“I’m sorry, Changminnie,” he said gently, meeting Changmin’s eyes, soft and tender.

“Don’t call me that.”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. I promise to take full responsibility. I won’t let him hurt you again.”

Changmin stared at him, speechless. He did not understand why U-Know still appeared so calm. Was he not afraid of punishment? Of death? Or was he so confident and stubborn to the point that he knew he wouldn’t get caught?

…was U-Know even a eunuch servant? 

U-Know’s face was drawing closer to him, and Changmin naturally leaned forward, further closing their gap.

Changmin narrowed his eyes pensively. “Who _are_ you?”

But U-Know did not have time to answer. Hurried footsteps sounded the hallway beyond the common room. They were discovered, and Changmin led U-Know right into a trap.

On instinct, he pushed U-Know behind the long red curtains that covered the window next to the settee.

“It’s Jaejoong! Quick! Hide!”

“Wait, Chang—”

“Shut up! Get down!”

Just as Changmin was about to kick the guns back under the settee, Hero Jaejoong and a team of Imperial Guards stormed inside the common room. The sounds of their clanging metal armor was deafening in Changmin’s ears.

“Hello, Senior Max,” said Jaejoong in a girly voice, his golden eyes twinkling derisively. “Time’s up.”

Changmin’s heart was thumping uncontrollably.

“Lord Hero,” he greeted, bowing his head.

“Ah, what do we have here?” Jaejoong asked sweetly, picking up a rifle by Changmin’s feet. “Embedded with the royal seal.”

“Yes,” replied Changmin, trying to remain calm. “I’ve found the stolen prototypes, my lord.”

“But where’s the thief?”

“He’s… he’s gone,” Changmin lied.

“Gone? No he’s not. He’s right here.”

Changmin looked up. Jaejoong smiled coldly at him.

“My lord—”

“You are the thief, Max Changmin.”

“But my lord! The thief is someone else! I can prove it!”

“It doesn’t matter. My work here is done. The stolen prototypes are uncovered. Whether you are telling the truth or not is of no importance to me. I’ll just turn you into His Eminence, and he shall decide your faith.”

A deep voice resonated through the room.

“His Eminence Lord Regent Eric has arrived!”

Jaejoong laughed.

“Oh. Just in time.”

Changmin started to panic. He dropped to his knees.

“What is it Hero?”

Lord Regent Eric swept into the room, followed by two Imperial Guards dressed in navy blue shoulder coats. All three of them had on metal neck rings and shoulder armor. A blinking device—a communicator—was strapped on each shoulder. They were military officials.

Changmin’s legs shook. Eric looked much more intimidating in this attire and angle.

Eric’s icy blue eyes catalogued his surroundings. His handsome face remained stoic as his eyes landed on Changmin.

Jaejoong stepped in front of Eric and bowed respectfully.

“Your Eminence. After much, much struggle I have finally found the imperial thief. It is Senior Max Changmin, of the Royal Kitchens. He had with him these, the stolen prototypes.”

Jaejoong presented Eric with the guns. The Lord Regent examined them with careful hands.

“They are indeed,” he said, his eyes going back to Changmin.

“Your Eminence, I’m not the thief!”

Eric tossed the guns in front of Changmin, who was now bowing with his face on the floor.

“If you’re not the thief, then who is?”

“The thief...” Changmin muttered frantically, breath rapid, thinking hard. “The thief—” 

“Me.” 

Changmin’s heart leaped. 

It was U-Know’s voice. What the fuck was that guy doing?

“I guess I’m the imperial thief you’re looking for,” U-Know continued, his voice calm and collected.

There was a tense pause. Changmin looked up to see his lords. Jaejoong let out a painful gasp and fell to his knees, kowtowing. All the other Imperial Guards in the room kneeled.

Eric smiled. He knelt down on one knee, an arm pressed firmly over his chest.

“Your Majesty.”

Changmin’s heart turned over.

Majesty.

U-Know was no eunuch. He was no kingsman.

He was the King.


End file.
